


Of Errant Hats and Royalty

by Elvesliketrees



Series: Kink Meme Fills [10]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aramis is a confused bunny, Beauty and the Beast AU, Cinderella AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Elements, Multi, Poor Aramis, Rapunzel AU, Sleeping Beauty AU, Some Swearing, Whipping, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvesliketrees/pseuds/Elvesliketrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the prompt in Round 1: Aramis as Cinderella and Athos as the prince who needs a wife :)</p>
<p>Maybe Aramis leaves his hat behind and not his shoe :)</p>
<p>D'Artagnan as Athos's lackey, Porthos as fairy godfather :D<br/>And Treville as Athos's father, the old king.</p>
<p>Louis could be maybe one of the ugly stepbrothers or something. And Milady too :D</p>
<p>Cracky and romantic? I need this so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost Hat Found

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, here's another fill! Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

Once, there was a very beautiful woman and her son. The woman lived on a very large estate with many servants, but the thing that she loved most was her young boy. The chateau rang with laughter and song, and the boy was a shining presence in the lives of all that met. Their little family was happy, and the people of the estate loved them. However, tongues began to wag as the rich widow did not take a husband. Concerned that her son would want a father, the widow sought remarry once more. Armand Richelieu, a man with money and of good breeding, a widower himself, soon came to seek her hand. Charmed by the man’s good looks and charm, the woman accepted his suite. Richelieu came to live at the chateau with his daughter Anne, and at first, everything was good. The children got on well, and it seemed as if their happiness would only grow. However, a great fever passed throughout the land, seizing the lives of rich and poor, from the queen down to the lowest pauper in the street. The woman passed away, much to the sorrow of her child and all those who knew her. That was not the end of it, however. Jealous of the knowledge that the boy would inherit all, while his daughter would have to be content with his own small inheritance, Richelieu came to resent the boy. Richelieu was a cruel master to those who lived on the estate, taxing them beyond measure and forcing those who could not pay to leave. The estate suffered, and soon the lands were empty and dark. The chateau suffered, and the servants began to leave. This only made the boy suffer more, as a greater and greater burden was heaped on his small shoulders. Richelieu never allowed the boy to go out, afraid of what would be said if it became known that the estate was not in the boy’s hands, as the woman’s will dictated. Soon enough, the people of the small kingdom forgot the happy boy, and indeed forgot the chateau for the most part. The boy grew, as children are wont to do, and he grew to be a thin and somewhat sickly thing, but his heart was still pure and good. Anne de Richelieu grew to be a haughty and proud woman, demanding everything in life, and giving none back to it. Richelieu was desperate for a husband for his only daughter, as he knew that if she married, he could easily pass “his” estate down to his new son.

\---

As Aramis woke to the sun shining in his window, he knew that it would be an absolutely glorious day. It was Wednesday, and that meant that the washing was tomorrow, the shopping was yesterday, and the cleaning on Friday. Wednesday was kitchen day! The idea of spending hours baking bread, sweets, and other things seemed a treat compared to the tiring act of scrubbing, or the long walk to the market, or the back-breaking cleaning involved with the house. He murmured to himself and turned over on his cot. His room was right off from the kitchen, and that meant that any warmth from the oven drifted into his room during the winter. He burrowed into his threadbare blanket and sighed as he rolled over on his hard cot. There were no other things in his small room other than the cot itself and a small basin for washing. This was a good week for him, and he squirmed happily when he remembered that Saturday was bath day for him, the very best day of the month. He gasped when he beheld the shining sun again and fairly flew out of bed, thanking God that Richelieu and Anne were both late sleepers. He pulled on his thin brown shirt, his patched trousers, and the cloth shoes that were really no good for anything. Padding out to the kitchen, he lit the fire in the hearth and put the kettle on for tea. He cut up a rasher of bacon and ran outside to collect the eggs from the henhouse. When he came trotting in with a laden basket, he started on scrambled eggs and cut up bread for toast. Last was a pot over the fire for porridge. When all was finished, he could hear Richelieu and Anne beginning to move around upstairs. Footsteps clomped slowly down the stairs, and he easily heard Richelieu’s irritated voice. “Aramis, breakfast!” he snapped. Quickly loading up a full tray, he pulled everything he’d made onto it and heaved onto one shoulder, making sure to leave a small amount of porridge in the bottom of the pot for his own meal, all that he’d receive until the evening. He bustled out the door, and could see that both Richelieu and Anne were seated at the kitchen table. Richelieu was drumming his fingers on the table impatiently, and Anne was actively glaring at him. He wilted a little under her gaze, but still managed a chirped “good morning” for them both. Richelieu gave him an icy glare and Anne only yawned. Aramis quickly set the table and served them both before backing away towards the door, there if need be but out of sight. They ate their breakfast with light conversation while Aramis watched with a slight twinge of envy as they ate their fill. When he was finished, Richelieu pushed his bowl back with a sigh and a cleared throat. Aramis immediately stepped forward and began to clear the table. “Aramis,” Richelieu said softly. Aramis immediately stopped clearing the table and grimaced. “When is breakfast to be on the table?” Richelieu asked.

“When you come down, sir,” Aramis said quietly.

“And was breakfast on the table when I came down?” Richelieu asked. Aramis gulped and braced himself.

“No sir,” Aramis whispered.

“And why ever not?” Richelieu questioned.

“I slept late sir, my sincerest apologies, it will not happen again,” Aramis said as sincerely as he could.

“Make sure that it does not. As it is, I’m beginning to wonder why I ever kept you. As punishment, you will not have your bath Saturday,” Richelieu stated. Aramis fought to contain the tears that threatened to blur his vision at the thought of no bath, and he straightened his back.

“Of course sir, is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked with as much a smile as he could offer up.

“No, get to the baking, I expect a good evening meal tonight,” Richelieu dismissed. Aramis retrieved the rest of the dishes and smiled when Anne shot him a victorious smirk. He shuffled out of the room with the large and unwieldy tray and set it down in the kitchen. When the door finally snapped shut, he sank down in front of the hearth. Tears blurred his vision as he beheld the wooden tub that was ensconced in the corner of the room. It was a tub that he had to haul up the stairs every other day and fill, while he got to soak delightedly in it once a month…well not this month. He lifted up his sleeve and compared his pale hands (Richelieu was livid if he didn’t clean his hands) with the grubbiness that was his arm. The only really clean parts of him were his hands and face, while the rest of his body was caked in dirt and ash. Luckily for him, his clothes covered most of it. He sniffled and wiped his face, and he staggered up and made his way over to the pantry. He had a long day of baking ahead of him, and it wouldn’t do to spend it wallowing in his own sadness. With a longing sigh, he started to knead the bread for dough and dreamed of soaking forever in a hot bath.

Not that far away, in a castle of gleaming white, Olivier Athos de Treville was not happy. His father was surrendering the kingship to him in a week, and there was still no sign of a consort, either man or woman. Of course, this presented a problem as the heir must be married before taking the throne. With a sigh, he looked to the servant that was waiting with his good tunics.

“The red will do I suppose,” he sighed. The man nodded fervently, probably would have agreed with him if he told him that the sky was purple, and put the red on him. The invitations for their last resort would be out in an hour, and the ball would be later that evening. The hope was that Athos would find his consort there. The servant bowed to him and left, and soon he found himself alone in the room. He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, and he had to wonder if he really wanted to be married. His father, King Jean de Treville, was not an old man, but he was determined that Athos would have a few years with the reigns before he descended into his full retirement. The door creaked open and Athos smiled, there were only two people who didn’t knock, and Father was busy making sure all the invitations got out. Porthos du Vallon walked into the room, his doublet pressed to absolute perfection for the upcoming event. As Athos’ head valet, he would be busy up until the ball, and so he was dressed now. He puttered about the room, muttering reminders to himself and to the man he’d known since childhood. He gazed at Athos and immediately stepped back.

“Why’re you in the red?” he growled, “Don’t look good on you, you only wear it because the ambassador from Spain gave it to you.”

“I wished to wear the red today,” Athos observed as nonchalantly as he could.

“Well take it off,” Porthos mumbled, “You’re wearin’ the blue, that’s your favorite.” Athos gave a small huff and allowed Porthos to strip it off. “You gonna tell me why you were wearin’ that?” Porthos asked quietly, “I know you’re nervous about tonight.”

“I don’t want my consort, whoever he or she may be, to marry the prince. I want him or her to marry Athos,” Athos stated quietly.

“And anyone who’d come near you in that ugly red would at least be a bit better than those who’d come near you in the blue. But oi, it ain’t good practice to voluntarily scare people at a ball, so we’re doin’ the blue,” Porthos sighed. “You’re gonna look good, and you’re gonna find the greatest person in the ball, and it’s gonna be good,” Porthos whispered encouragingly. Athos gave him a small smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Porthos gave him a slap on the back and grinned.

“C’mon, let’s get you in the bath, you need to get ready,” Porthos replied.

A short while later, Aramis was just putting the bread in the oven when he heard a knock at the door. Visitors? That was certainly a rare occurrence!

“Coming!” he chirped, wiping his doughy hands with a cloth. He dashed over to the door, only to stop and open it calmly. He could see Anne at the top of the stairs, a look of restrained curiosity on her face. “Can I help you?” he asked as he gazed at the well-dressed footman outside their door. The man gazed at him disdainfully, and Aramis wilted as he looked at his grubby appearance.

“An invitation for your Master and Mistress. A royal ball is to be held at this palace this very evening, a ball that all eligible young ladies and gentlemen are invited to,” the man stated, dropping a crisp letter into Aramis’ waiting palm. He gave the man a small smile and bowed slightly.

“I’ll give it to them,” he said quietly, “His Majesty has our most profound thanks.” The man bowed in return and walked quickly away from the house. Aramis closed the door and turned around as he heard running feet down the stairs.

“Oh a ball, I must tell Father!” Anne gasped. Squealing with joy, she bolted up the stairs, and soon Aramis could hear Richelieu thundering his name. He walked up the stairs and came to Richelieu’s study, where Anne was fidgeting excitedly in front of his desk.

“You are to make a new dress for my daughter for the ball tonight, make it perfect and make it beautiful. This may be her chance for a good marriage, for why else would the king ask that all the eligible young ladies and gentlemen in the kingdom attend?” Richelieu said with a gleam in his eyes.

“And the baking?” Aramis asked quietly.

“Can be done once we leave, we will still expect the dinner when we return,” Richelieu said harshly.

“Of course,” Aramis said quietly. With that, he and Anne left for the sewing room. He selected a bolt of mint green, and she nodded at him in assent as he held it up. He soon took her measurements and began sewing frantically for her dress. He knew that he would be up until midnight as it was with the baking, and he couldn’t afford any delays. He finished her needed measurements and scrambled downstairs to take the bread out of the oven and heat Anne’s bathwater, along with Richelieu’s. Anne sauntered off to her bedroom, threatening him with her father’s horse whip if he ruined her new dress. He fled downstairs with a promise of utmost perfection. He pulled the bread out and heated the bathwater. This only took about fifteen minutes and he was soon hauling heavy buckets of water up the stairs to empty in Anne’s room. Soon, her tub was full, and he did the same with the tub that was located in Richelieu’s room. He returned to the sewing room, his stomach rumbling with hunger since he’d not had his porridge (and now realized he never would), and he began the sewing in earnest. Anne soon joined him in a shift and stood on the block as he draped the material over her and made the appropriate alterations. She prattled on in her rich tones about nothing, and Aramis didn’t really listen to the things that she was sure to do with the handsome prince. A hand fisted in his hair, and he was forced to look up at angry green eyes with a squeak.

“I _said_ , he’ll love the dress, won’t he Aramis?” she asked with mock sweetness.

“O-of course, p-please let go,” he said softly. With an imperious huff, she released him, and he began to sew frantically. Finally, her dress was done. It was truly a thing of beauty, and a genuine smile came to his lips as she sashayed around the room. He made a few adjustments to little details and she looked down at him. He wanted to go, go so badly to the ball. He would have loved to even just stand there as he waited on the family, watching the beautiful dresses and capes as they swirled and gazing at the bright lights. He could see himself dancing with the handsome prince, a smile on his face, and not one that he forced on himself because it was better to look at life with one.

“You have that dopey smile on your face again,” Anne scoffed. He hung his head, only for her to lift his chin in a rare display of gentleness. “Tell me,” she stated.

“I only imagined-imagined what it would be like to go to the ball,” he whispered. Her stinging laughter was like a slap to the face, and he looked up at her in shock.

“Dirty little Aramis, getting to see the prince,” she laughed, “Perish the thought! You think too highly of yourself, you’re nothing more than a servant! The prince would only kick you out!”

“Of course, it was only a happy little thought,” he whispered, “No harm in it.”

“There _is_ harm in servants who don’t know their place, now finish the adjustments,” she commanded. Aramis nodded quickly and was done in a few moments, scampering downstairs as Anne walked to her father’s study. He threw himself into his work, into the bread and the cakes and the chicken, trying to ignore the hole in his heart. He heard Richelieu and Anne bid him a brace of haughty goodbyes, and then he heared the coach they’d sent for depart. A hot tear slithered down his cheek, and he gripped his aching stomach. Maybe some water would help things. He walked to the well and sat at the edge. Just then, there was a thud and a pained groan. Aramis whirled around and saw the leafless bushes near the well moving. He squeaked in surprise and threw himself back.

“Damn bushes,” someone swore from the tangled branches. Then, a young man with dark hair and eyes extricated himself.

“Who are you?” Aramis squeaked as the man swore at the branches and tried to get his blue cape from them.

“d’Artagnan, I’m your Fairy Godmother!” he chirped.

“Fairy God _mother_?!” Aramis squeaked.

“In training,” d’Artagnan added.

“In training,” Aramis repeated.

“Yeah, you’re my first assignment, but don’t ask how I got it, oath of secrecy and all that, I’m sure you understand,” d’Artagnan stated.

“Of course, am I dreaming?” Aramis asked.

“Oh good, one of the most commonly asked questions! No sir or madam, you are not dreaming,” d’Artagnan stated proudly, “Now, you wanna know why I’m here?” Aramis nodded. “Well, you’re dream was heard and your request was granted, I’m here to take you to the ball!” d’Artagnan said excitedly.

“But I’m dirty and have nothing to wear!” Aramis protested vehemently.

“Oh, I can fix that. What are the words? Bippiddi, no bopadom, no…oh hell, just give him some clothes and clean him up!” d’Artagnan yelled in frustration. There was a flash, and Aramis looked down in absolute horror.

“Why am I in a dress?!” he yelled. The blue dress was beautiful sure, but it was a dress. “And those glass slippers are not practical!”

“Sorry, sorry! Put him in _man’s_ clothing!” d’Artagnan commanded. There was another flash, and Aramis gasped. A beautiful, grey hat of soft leather was in his hands, and he had black gloves. His trousers were soft and were also grey. He looked up and saw he had a long coat of the same color. It was soft and thick, and it opened up at his waist while it was tighter up top. A red shirt could be seen peeking through. He thought ran a hand through his hair and was astounded when he felt that it was silky and smooth. d’Artagnan was leading a black horse towards him and helped Aramis mount up, and Aramis was off. “Bye!” d’Artagnan called, “I hope your experience was all that it was dreamt to be!” Aramis galloped off towards the palace, and he soon was dismounting in front of it. He made sure that the horse was stabled and ascended the steps. He was late! He was shown in, and he soon looked on the most beautiful sight he’d ever gazed upon. Chandeliers sparked in the brightly lit room, and garish couples circled in the center. A large crowd was gathered around it talking, and there were great piles of food on the table. With a watering mouth, Aramis plucked up a piece of cheese and nibbled it to sooth his roiling stomach. He watched the couples and was debating on getting some more food (might as well take advantage of the situation while he could) when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and gazed into icy blues eyes. The most handsome man he’d ever seen was staring at him, and his heart hammered in his ribs. A well-dressed man was hovering behind him, a huge smile on his face.

“Hello,” the man said softly, and Aramis realized his voice was as wonderful as his eyes were riveting.

“Hello,” Aramis said shyly.

“Would you like to dance?” the man asked. Aramis could only nod. The man grabbed his arm tentatively and led him onto the floor, and there they began to dance. Aramis frantically remembered the dance steps his mother had taught him long ago, and soon the two were curling around the dance floor.

“What’s your name?” Aramis asked.

“Athos,” the man replied quietly. The prince then, he was dancing with the prince, his dream was coming true! “What’s your name?” the man asked quietly. Aramis chewed on his bottom lip, anonymity was probably a good idea, this wouldn’t last past tonight. Athos quirked an eyebrow at him and smiled. “A mystery then,” he mused, and they left it at that. Aramis looked at the people around the room, and he saw that most of them were glaring at him. A tremor shook through his frame, he shouldn’t be here! Athos glared back at the spectators and gripped his hands.

“They’re all just jealous,” Athos whispered, “Pay them no mind.” The dance concluded and Athos bowed politely. Aramis assumed he would leave him then, but instead he took his hand and led him off. “Food?” Athos asked. Aramis wondered if he really should, he didn’t want to gorge himself in front of the prince. However, his stomach grumbled churlishly at him, and Athos smiled at him. He gripped his shoulder beneath the jacket and frowned. “You’re thin,” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. He led Aramis towards the food, and Aramis glanced at the other guests, most of whom were still glaring at him. He almost jumped when he saw Richelieu and Anne glaring at him, and he thanked d’Artagnan for giving the hat a wide brim. He passed by unrecognized and watched as Athos piled nearly a mountain of food onto a plate. He led him out of the palace and into the heated gardens, which were surrounded by glass walls so that the plants thrived in the winter, and shoved the plate unceremoniously at Aramis. “Go on,” he whispered, “I don’t mind.” They shared the food (Aramis got almost all of it) and talked for hours. The bells had just struck six when they began, and it was midnight when Aramis heard a whinny. It appeared that the guests were leaving. “Stay?” Athos whispered, grasping his hand after he’d followed Aramis’ gaze. Aramis gulped, he shouldn’t be doing this. The guests were leaving, Richelieu and Anne! With a gasp, he leapt up. “Wait, please?” Athos asked softly.

“I-I’m so sorry, this has been the best night of my life, but I have to leave!” Aramis cried, dashing off towards the stables. He heard Athos yell after him in seeming desperation, but he paid him no heed. He and the horse fairly thundered out of the stables and down the road, trees whizzing by in a blur, and they made it home before Richelieu and Anne. The horse disappeared as soon as he dismounted, and he quickly got back into his old clothes and smeared ashes and dirt on himself. He was setting the table when Richelieu and Anne entered haughtily.

“Ah good!” Richelieu sighed.

“He barely even looked at me!” Anne fairly wailed.

“Well, the Marquis seemed to take a liking to you,” Richelieu replied. The conversation went on thus, alternating between the dandy the prince had been dancing with and the Marquis. When they were finished, Aramis cleared the table and washed the dishes. As he settled down for the night, he placed his things under the bed, lamenting the loss of his hat.

At the palace, Porthos came running up as he heard Athos’ desperate yells.

“You alright?” he demanded, and sighed as Athos nodded.

“He’s gone,” Athos whispered, “I didn’t even know his name.”

“Then we’ll find ‘im, your father said anyone, right?” he asked.

“Yes, and he lost his hat. So, we send a man to ask about all the eligible men five miles from the palace, and we’ll go see them. We’ll start with the nobility in that five miles and expand outwards if we can’t find him,” Athos stated.

“Good thinkin’, now c’mon, your father wanted to know how it went before we retired, and we have a long day tomorrow,” Porthos stated. Athos nodded and followed him to the king’s study.

“How did it go?” his father asked.

“Well and not well,” Athos sighed. Athos carefully narrated all of the events of the night, and his father’s grin just got bigger and bigger as he explained.

“So, we’ll institute your plan tomorrow, and we’ll find your mystery man!” Jean de Treville said excitedly. With the well wishes of his father, Athos retired for the night, dark eyes and a sweet smile plaguing his dreams.

Aramis got up during the middle of the night, his stomach bloated and bile rising in his throat. He dashed outside and dispensed the contents of the best dinner he’d ever had into the bushes. With a longing sigh, he went back to bed. The next day, he was preparing lunch when the door knocked.

“Coming!” he chirped. He went towards the door and bowed at the royal messenger.

“I am here to speak to the head of the household,” the man said imperiously, grimacing at Aramis’ grubby appearance. Aramis nodded and led him to the sitting room before running to fetch Richelieu. He listened in at the kitchen door as the messenger explained that he was to inquire as to any eligible men in the household for the prince’s mysterious lover last night.

“I have no eligible men, only a daughter,” Richelieu sighed. The man was about to leave when Aramis realized something in shock. The prince’s lover! The prince was looking for Aramis! He padded out of the kitchen and cleared his throat. Richelieu levelled an icy glare at him, but Aramis just walked forward with the clothes from the night previous.

“Excuse me sir, b-but it was me,” he said softly. He held up the clothes as evidence, and Richelieu paled.

“That is most untrue,” he said sternly, “Aramis! What have I told you about stealing my things?! I am sorry my good sir, our servant is slightly touched in the head, I keep him on the for the sake of his father.”

“Most grossly offensive!” the man gasped, “To think, a common servant dancing with the prince?! A most disgraceful lie!”

“I assure you sir, he shall be punished for his actions, but please have mercy on him! Aramis, to the kitchen, we shall discuss this later!” Richelieu commanded.

“B-But…” Aramis whimpered, hot tears forking down his cheeks. A slap to the cheek had him gasping and dropping his beautiful clothes, and he stepped back and fled into the kitchen. He could hear Richelieu apologizing profusely to the messenger before the door closed. He heard Richelieu’s chair scrape against the floor, and then the kitchen door slammed against the wall. His hair was seized in an iron grip, and he watched as Richelieu tossed the beautiful clothes, even the boots, into the fire. A sob tore out of his throat, and he was dragged towards the wall. Aramis gasped when he saw Richelieu grab the horsewhip from its hook. He proceeded to drag him through the newly-fallen snow and towards a post that was in the yard. “Please, please, not that, I’ll be good, I promise, just not that!” Aramis screamed, but Richelieu paid him no mind. Richelieu ripped his shirt off and secured his hands on the other side of the post with some rope. Aramis begged, but the first strike sent pain down his back. He didn’t know how long it continued, only knew that his back was a throbbing mess by the time Richelieu cut him down, seized his hair, and dragged him back into the house. He didn’t think he imagined Anne’s pale face as he was dragged in, but he could have, his mind was so hazy. He was dragged up the stairs and thrown into one of the empty rooms, and he heard the door lock behind him. He didn’t know how long he lay there, trembling in the cold, and he mourned for the prince that he knew was never going to come. Princes didn’t marry grubby servants.

“You found no one?” Athos sighed as the man reported to them two days later.

“No eligible males of a young age with dark hair five miles around the castle,” the man replied, “Only lies and gross offenses!”

“Gross offenses?” Athos asked. He thought the man a little pompous himself, but was curious.

“A servant at the Chateau d’Herblay. He came in bearing his master’s clothes that looked like your man’s and stated he was him!” the man said incredulously.

“Did he match the description?” Athos demanded.

“Yes my lord, but he was a grubby servant!” the man cried.

“Leave us, you have done well,” Athos said quietly. The man bowed and left the room quietly.

“That would explain why he wouldn’t give his name,” Porthos said quietly.

“Yes, and why he scampered off while the guests were leaving. Porthos, I would like an escort of ten guards and the hat, I believe it is time we visited the Chateau d’Herblay,” Athos commanded.

“Aye sir!” Porthos said with a huge grin. Soon, they were off, and they neared the chateau as it began to near the evening meal. The group of riders neared the chateau and stopped there.

“If it is him, his master knows. I’ll say that I want to speak to him who offended me so grossly,” Athos explained.

“Good idea,” Porthos sighed. He went up and banged on the door, commanding them to open in the name of the prince. A woman came to the door, and they filed into the house, and when they talked to the head of the house, Richelieu, the man paled.

“H-he is indisposed,” he whispered. Porthos looked at the man darkly, and Athos felt a twitch of something akin to fear.

“We’ll see him anyways,” Athos stated. Richelieu stammered something out, but Athos cut him off. “Search the house, I want the servant, but see that no harm comes to him,” Athos commanded. They moved upstairs, and the guards soon came upon a locked door on the far side of the house. Porthos obtained the key from Richelieu, and Athos soon unlocked the door. Bile rose in his throat as he smelled the blood in the room. He dashed forward, only to see a small form curled up in a ball on the floor. Athos gasped and raced forward, and Porthos tossed the hat at him. Taking the small form into his arms, he placed the hat on his head. It fit perfectly. The man gave a sob, and he trembled in Athos arms. “Hey hey, hush, it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you,” Athos soothed as he condemned Richelieu straight to the pits of hell. The man trembled in his arms, and Athos pulled his arms around him, trying his best to comfort the man. The man gave a hiss, and Athos immediately pulled his arms away, only to find his sleeves covered in blood.

“Let’s get ‘im back to the palace, I sent one of the guards to get a blanket and a glass of water, ‘e looks parched,” Porthos whispered.

As Aramis trembled in the arms of the prince, he was sure that he was dreaming. He waited for Richelieu to come in and tell him he was just soft in the head, but the only thing that happened was the prince put his arms around him as he made soothing noises. He hissed as his cuts were hugged, and the man’s arms immediately drew away. He watched with horror as he saw the blood on his doublet. Tears flooded his eyes, and he shook in the man’s arms.

“Hey, it’s alright,” the man soothed, and Aramis whimpered. He would have apologized, profusely, but his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and the only thing he could do was croak out an inarticulate noise. Athos shushed him as he rubbed his hands up and down Aramis’ arms, and boots soon came into the room. A glass of water appeared his vision, and Athos grasped it and brought it to his lips. “Take it slow,” he instructed, and Aramis nodded. When the glass was drained, a blanket was wrapped around his trembling shoulders. He gave a moan as his shirt was pressed against the cuts, but Athos didn’t take the blanket away. “I know it hurts, but we have to keep you warm, you’re freezing. I’m taking you back to the palace,” Athos said quietly, “Porthos, you’ll have to carry him.” Strong arms were placed around him, and he was cradled gently to a broad chest. Were they going to punish him for dancing with the prince? He was carried downstairs and out into the biting wind, and Aramis was then thankful for the blanket. He was lifted into the air, and he recognized Athos’ soothing voice as he was placed in front of him on the horse. As they set off at an easy trot, Aramis placed his head on Athos’ shoulder and slept.

When Aramis awoke, he was lying on his stomach. He was comfortably warm, and the events of the last two days came flooding back. Oh no, he was at the palace! Were they going to punish him for daring to dance with the prince?! After all, he was just a grubby servant! He saw that he was lying on a veritable mound of pillows with thick blankets tucked around him, and he felt bandages on his back. Tears flooded hot in his eyes, and he sobbed into the pillow. He knew it, they’d put him here to recover, and now he would be punished since he was awake! They didn’t know he was awake yet, he had to get away! He pushed the covers back and saw that he’d soiled everything with the dirt and ashes on his skin. The pillow had a large spot on it from his hair, and the bed and sheets and even the blankets all had dirt on them. Just a grubby servant. He sat up, even though it was agony to his back, and looked around wildly. He had to get away! He hadn’t meant to deceive the prince! His heart crashed against his chest as he heard the clomping of heavy steps near the door, someone was coming! He dove out of bed, ignoring the ripping sound and the agony of his back, and looked around wildly. He beheld the door in the room and threw it open. It was only a closet, but it was better than nothing. He stumbled in and shut the door. Voices entered the room, soon becoming desperate with added cries for the guards. Aramis curled in on himself, willing them not to check the room. Most of the boots left, but one pair clomped in front of the door. The closet door was eased open, and Aramis gave out a shuddering sob. The person on the other side yelled that he’d found him, but to Aramis’ surprise, also ordered them away. Seizing a candle from the wall, he slowly walked into the closet and closed the door behind him. With a sigh, he sat down on the floor beside Aramis and gently ran a hand through his hair, and Aramis trembled under the touch.

“Y’know, I like my quiet time myself, but can I ask what you’re doin’ in here?” the man asked, “I’m Porthos by the way.”

“Please, please, I didn’t know!” Aramis breathed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I promise I’ll leave!”

“Oi now, you don’t have to leave!” the man protested, he lifted the candle towards Aramis’ back and leaned over, but Aramis scooted backwards, and the man gave him his space. “You didn’t say what you were doin’ in here,” Porthos whispered.

“Hiding, I’m sorry,” Aramis whispered.

“From?” Porthos asked calmly.

“I danced with the prince, me, a grubby servant! Please believe me, I’m sorry, I didn’t know it wasn’t allowed!” Aramis cried.

“Now now, you didn’t do anything that wasn’t allowed,” Porthos said, “Who told you that it was?”

“My master whipped me for it, and I swear, I-I’ll pay for the doctor, and the sheets, and all the nice things!” Aramis promised.

“Your master was a cruel man,” Porthos said softly, “And you don’t have to pay for anything.”

“I don’t have the money, but I’ll work it off! I promise I will, but please, don’t punish me. I’ll work it all off, the rest of my life if I have to! I can work here, or with another family if you don’t want me,” he whispered. Porthos tried to look at his back again, his eyes sparkling with something akin to rage, and Aramis knew he’d offended him. “I’m sorry, I deserve punishment, and of course you don’t want me near anyone, especially not Ath…the prince,” he whispered, “Do I have to leave immediately, I could, if need be.” The man ran his hand through his short curls and sighed.

“Would you believe me if I told you that you’re _not_ in trouble?” asked heavily. Aramis looked up at him in confusion.

“But I-,” he protested.

“Did absolutely nothing wrong, will receive no punishment, and will not have to work anything off,” Porthos interrupted him.

“Really?” Aramis breathed.

“Really, and trust me, I know ‘im, I’m his valet,” the man said with a small smile.

“I know I deserve a whipping, but thank you, my back hurts so,” Aramis whispered.

“No one deserves that,” Porthos contradicted vehemently, “And if anyone _ever_ says that ya do, you come to me and I’ll kill ‘em for ya.” He gave Aramis a small smile at this, and Aramis found himself grinning back.

“Why am I here?” he asked quietly.

“Well, for one, we found you half dead in that room, and Athos felt more than a little bad for what that pompous arse of a messenger did. Secondly, he likes ya you goose, a great deal,” Porthos said with a smile. Aramis stared up at him incredulously and the man groaned and ran a hand through his curls.

“He doesn’t even know my name,” Aramis whispered.

“And the king’s promised a nice, long courtship so that we can know names and all that lot. He said that he can sit on the throne will Athos gets to know his intended,” Porthos said with a small smile.

“So when do I go back to the chateau?” Aramis asked.

“You got any things there?” Porthos asked, and Aramis shook his head, all his things had been sold shortly after Mother died. “Then you’ll never set foot in that place again. Now c’mon silly goose, I need to see what you did to your back after that stunt.” The candle was held over his back, and Aramis processed the spreading wetness for the first time. Porthos swore viciously, and Aramis cringed.

“That bad?” he asked.

“Did you see your back after that man got done?” Porthos demanded, to which Aramis shook his head.

“Count yourself lucky then… aw Athos is gonna kill me, I was supposed to be watchin’ you while he’s on a diplomatic mission for two weeks!” Porthos said with a groan.  

“You didn’t do anything!” Aramis protested, and Porthos smiled at him.

“Yeah, the king had to command him to the meetin’, he didn’t like leavin’ you,” Porthos sighed.

“How long have I been asleep?” Aramis asked.

“Five days,” Porthos responded, and Aramis winced.

“C’mon you need to see Doctor Lemay,” Porthos sighed after a short period of silence.

“I got the sheets and things dirty,” Aramis admitted quietly.

“Knew you would, at least not until after your bath, no worries, they’re actually the rattiest sheets we have,” Porthos said with a small scoff. Aramis gave a yawn, and Porthos picked him up under the legs gentle, cradling Athos’ front against his chest and trying his best not to touch his bandages. They exited the closet, and Aramis was deposited on the bed with a quiet sigh. Porthos walked out the room and talked to someone outside, and he situated himself on a chair near the bed. A dark-haired man entered the room, and Porthos met him at the door to whisper quietly. The man nodded and walked over, clucking over his back. The nightshirt he wore was taken off, as were the bandages. The man, Doctor Lemay apparently, talked to him of everything and nothing as he stitched his wounds, as did Porthos. When Lemay was finally done, he handed Aramis some warm tea, which Porthos lifted him up to sip. When the cup was drained, he was settled once more against the pillows on his front, and Lemay looked at Porthos.

“He doesn’t move out of this bed for two weeks unless absolutely necessary,” Lemay commanded.

“Of course,” Porthos placated.

“And as soon as he wakes up, give him a thorough bath, his skin is filthy and I’m beginning to see signs of infection,” Lemay said quietly.

“When I wake up?” Aramis asked, and there was a distinct slur to his voice. His eyes drooped closed, and he blinked them back open with a confused groan.

“Don’t fight it goose, it’s just somethin’ to help you calm down,” Porthos soothed as he ran a hand through Aramis’ hair. As his eyes drooped closed, Aramis sent him what Porthos would report later was the cutest death glare ever to be seen. When he finally blinked his eyes open again, he yawned and stretched a little, only to be restrained by Porthos.

“What did I say about movin’?” Porthos asked, “Or well, what did Lemay say?”

“You drugged me!” Aramis gasped.

“You were pretty panicked, and I wasn’t gonna have you rip your stitches open again or run off before you and Athos had a chance to talk. Now, are you gonna behave so I can give you your bath?” Porthos asked. Aramis’ eyes lit up at the thought of the warm water that was a bath. Porthos smiled at him and called for the water to be drawn. Servants carried in buckets, and Aramis watched in amazement as oil and salts were poured in. Porthos lifted him from the bed as servants placed warm towels and cloths by the tub, and the new bedding was placed by the hearth to warm. A new nightshirt was also by the fire, and the dirty bedding was soon stripped away. Aramis’ bandages were removed, and he was carefully lowered into the steaming water. He sighed as he went boneless in the warm water, and Porthos chuckled. There was a tray with soaps (he remembered what Anne and Richelieu’s looked like) and oils for his hair. He was used to only dunking his hair and using a small sliver of lye to bathe, not the expensive soaps and oils that were used amongst the wealthy. With a chuckle, Porthos made him dunk his head under the water and scrubbed his tangled locks thoroughly. When they were finally done, the water was black and he was pale and wrinkled. Porthos replaced the bandages after he was patted dry, and a thicker nightshirt was wrapped around him. As he was lowered onto the bed, he was settled in amongst the thicker covers and against new pillows. As he closed his eyes, Porthos sighed. “You must be hungry, I sent for somethin’, that should be them now,” Porthos said quietly. Aramis’ eyes lit up at the prospect of breakfast, and Porthos gazed at him fondly. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked, half teasing.

“The ball,” Aramis replied nonchalantly, and Porthos stiffened.

“Yeah, we’re gonna need to get somethin’ in your stomach,” Porthos rumbled. A steaming tray was brought in, and Aramis looked with wonder at the thick porridge. Porthos settled him against the pillows and he was soon eating the porridge ravenously. The next two weeks continued on as thus, with Porthos doting on his every need with a ferociousness that was a wonder to behold, and food being pressed at him every hour of the day. When Aramis complained that he would get fat soon, Porthos scoffed at him and then beamed at him for working up the nerve to actually complain about something. When he woke two weeks later to someone stroking a cool hand through his hair, Aramis blinked his eyes open in confusion. Blue eyes looked into his and Aramis smiled nervously.

“Hello,” Athos said softly with a smile.

“Hello, it’s been some time,” Aramis said with a small grin.

“And for that I’m sorry, I wish I could’ve stayed,” Athos sighed.

“I understand, besides, Porthos took good care of me,” Aramis soothed.

“And for that I’m glad. Lemay said you can get out of bed for a short time soon, though we’ll have to put some meat on you,” Athos said quietly. Aramis smiled at him and patted the bed next to him. “I still don’t know your name,” Athos said with a small laugh.

“It’s Aramis, Aramis d’Herblay,” Aramis said quietly.

“Then you own the chateau,” Athos said slowly.

“What?” Aramis scoffed.

“Your mother, she left it to you. After the scandal with you, my father checked into Richelieu’s affairs and found the will, the estate is yours,” Athos said quietly. Aramis’ mouth dropped open, and he blinked at Athos. “But that changes nothing between us!” Athos said swiftly, “But I would like to know if…if you would like to continue seeing me, to engage in a courtship. It’ll be a long one, I assure you, and I know we don’t know one another very well…” Aramis silenced him with a small nod and a grin. Athos laughed breathlessly, and with a cry of joy, he pulled Aramis into his arms. He lay down next to Aramis, and the two talked all day of things great and small, and as night fell, Aramis’ eyes began to droop. When Porthos brought the evening meal, he saw the two curled up in bed. Aramis’ head was settled on Athos’ chest, his face half-buried Athos’ shirt, and Athos had both arms wrapped around the man protectively. Athos had a blissful smile on his face that only came in sleep, and Aramis was smiling softly as Athos’ chest rose and fell beneath him.  Porthos figured that dinner could wait, and with that, he closed the door.


	2. Our Love is a Wilting Forget me Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The "Beauty and the Beast" AU that was requested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Athamis "Beauty and the Best". Warnings for a tiny discussion on starving and force-feeding, but that should be it. Thanks for reading!

Once, there was lived a happy lord. The lord lived in a bright castle with many servants, along with his younger brother, and many lands lay around their walls. The peasants were content and happy, the harvests were bountiful, and everyone lived in joy and peace. There was nothing the lord loved more than his younger brother, a bright and shining light in his life. The lord was known for his merciful and forgiving nature, and the people loved him dearly. High summer was in its fullness when the lord rode out to his farms. Riding on the edge of the forest, he was horrified as a woman burst out of the trees, wounded and alone. He pulled her onto his horse, took her to his castle, and tended her wounds with a loving and caring hand. He nursed her himself, and eventually, they fell in love. They were married in the winter, under the snowy trees and the dark sky.

As winter turned to spring and spring to summer, everyone was happy. However, it was not meant to be. It became known that the beloved lady was a witch, a thing which was punishable by death. She pleaded with her lord husband for mercy, but the lord knew that the law was the law. He proclaimed that the next morning, his beloved wife would be hung from the highest tree. As morning dawned, his wife was led before the village. Anger filled her heart, and she saw that her husband’s heart was filling with an ice as cold and unbreakable as stone. Knowing that she would soon die, the anger filled her heart and clouded her mind.

Standing tall, she cursed her husband with her last words. She proclaimed that he would be cursed forever, until his true love was found and accepted him into their heart. With that, the lady swung from the highest tree until she choked out her last breath. With her last breath, the lord’s brother collapsed to ground in a heap. Despite their best efforts, they could not rouse him, much to their despair. A forget me not was found to be growing under her, and it was then that the curse imbedded itself in their minds. Until the lord’s true love was found and accepted in his heart (and the lord in his), the lord’s beloved brother would not awake. One petal of the forget me not would fall for each year the love was not found, and once the last petal fell, the lord’s brother would sleep forever in a doomed slumber. The lord’s heart filled with ice, and the land fell into despair. The people fled the nearest lands in fear of the curse, and some of the servants fled as well. The king raised the taxes, and the people grew poor. Despair flooded the land, and the castle became dark and cold. Five of the six petals would soon be lost, and the lord despaired for his brother. No solution was forthcoming, and no stranger entered his life. However, fate had declared that the lord have a chance to save his beloved brother, and five years after the curse, his chance walked petulantly through the forest.

\---

“Fuck Martin Lebarge and his old-fashioned ideals!” Aramis d’Herblay murmured as he walked through the forest. “A meek and good husband indeed!” Aramis ranted to himself, “Can’t walk through the forest to Ana Royal’s house to check on her baby! You’ll get lost Aramis, I’ll escort you Aramis, why did you reject my proposal Aramis, you would make me a wonderful husband Aramis, please Aramis? Lost indeed, I can take care of myself, I’m a good independent man, a healer!” He stomped through the supposedly endless forest, his medical bag slapping against his thigh. He stopped when he heard a whinny in the forest. With a gasp, he dove into the bushes and hid. He saw horse after horse pass him, and shuddered when he realized that these were the bandits that were plaguing the villages close to the forest. They were jeering, and he realized that they were going towards his village. With a gasp, he scrambled back on his hands and feet. He had to warn someone! Suddenly, steel was pressed against his throat and a fist in his hair tilted his head back.

“My my, you’re a pretty thing! A pretty pet for me, and loot on top of it after we get out of the damned forest!” a voice hissed. Aramis gulped. Ten minutes later, he watched with wide eyes as the column moved forward once more. The man on the horse gave the rope tied around his wrists a vicious yank, and Aramis found himself propelled forward. He was forced to walk behind the horse, and he was forced to listen as the men described their numerous uses for the loot they’d surely get. Finally, they slowed enough to where he could throw himself backwards. The man let go of the rope with a cry, and Aramis sprinted into the bushes. He weaved in and out of the trees, not even registering where he was going. He heard the bandits yelling behind him, and he forced his legs to pump faster.

When a castle loomed above him, he felt that he might faint. He tripped over the rope and crashed into gate, and his heart leapt when he saw a figure running towards him. It looked to be a guard, and the young man ran towards the gate and unlocked it. Aramis crumpled to the ground, but he was hefted into someone’s arms and a knife started to saw at his bonds. Aramis gasped and pulled in a few deep breaths before looking at his savior. He was young, very young, and had dark hair and warm eyes.

“P-please, you have to help!” he gasped, “There are bandits riding towards the south village!” The man looked at him, now alarmed, and helped him into the house. He staggered up many flights of stairs, only to find himself in a warm office. A man with brown hair and icy blue eyes was sitting in behind it, numerous papers spread out before him.

“What is it?” the man asked.

“Bandits riding towards the south village my lord! This man was captured, or so I assume, but escaped. Sir, you are in the presence of Lord Athos,” the man said. Aramis looked up at the man in shock. So this was the Lord Athos, who no one ever saw anymore and who never ventured out of his castle. Some speculated that he was dead.

“Lord Athos, please, they’ll raze the village!” Aramis cried, “I heard them talking about it!”

“And how many were they?” the man demanded.

“About ten or fifteen,” Aramis answered.

“My household guard should be able to remedy the situation,” Athos said nonchalantly.

“Thank you,” Aramis sighed, his village, it would be spared!

“But tell me, why should I?” the man asked.

“Why should you what?” Aramis asked quietly, a slight chuckle of hysteria punctuated at the end of the sentence.

“The south village is in the fiefdom of Baron Renard, who is under myself and is in charge of any small situation, which this is,” Athos stated calmly, signing a paper and handing it to another man that was behind him. The man behind him grimaced, and Aramis saw a look of sympathy in the man’s eyes. He knew then that the lord in front of him was being completely serious.

“Please sir, I’ll never get to the Baron in time, and there’s no warning for the village! We are in your bounds, are your people, please!” Aramis begged.

“I will not risk my men for something that is not their duty, the baron has a bigger guard, would have a greater chance with his numbers,” Athos mused.

“But he won’t get there in time!” Aramis pleaded, “Please!”

“And what would you be willing to give me?” the man asked quietly.

“What?” Aramis demanded.

“What would you be willing to give me for your village?” Athos demanded in turn.

“I-I am a serviceable healer, any time I am needed hereafter would be free of any debt,” Aramis said quietly. Athos’ scoff was like a slap to the face.

“I do not consider the services of a healer much use,” the man sneered.

“Athos,” the man behind him hissed.

“No Porthos, is there anything else of no worth that you wish to offer?” Athos asked. The man, Porthos apparently, hung his head, and Aramis felt tears burn behind his eyes. He sunk to his knees and lowered his head.

“If you will not accept anything that I offer, then I must beg you as a man, to find the compassion in your heart,” Aramis whispered. A hand gripped his chin, and he was forced to look up into cold, blue eyes.

“My compassion died five years ago. Now, here is my offer. You will remain here, until the day of your death, serving me in my house in any way that I deem fit,” Athos said coldly.

“Could I at least say good-bye to my family and friends?” Aramis whispered.

“No, I said that you shall remain, and remain you shall,” Athos said coldly. Aramis sniffled, a tear coursing down his cheek, but he nodded his head all the same.

“It shall be as you command…my lord,” Aramis breathed out. An imperious nod and a cold smile was Athos’ acknowledgement.

“Porthos, take him to one of the servant’s quarters and lock him in, I will not have him run off as soon as our backs are turned,” Athos commanded, “d’Artagnan, prepare the household guard to fend off the bandits.” The big man came forward and clapped a hand on his shoulder and led him out of the room. He was led down a large flight of stairs and to a cold room off from the kitchen. He found that an unmade bed in one corner, a hearth, and a chest at the end of the bed. With a sigh, he walked into the room.

“Someone’ll be in shortly with clothes and the bed things,” Porthos said quietly before closing the door. Aramis heard the lock click, and only then did he allow himself to despair. With a sob, he curled up on the bed and trembled. What had he done?! No! He had saved his village, dozens of lives! With a sob, he realized that he would never leave, that he was a prisoner in a very large cage. With a shudder, he heard the door creak. He lifted his head, and there stood Porthos in the door. A maid with red hair deposited a pile of clothes and bed things on the floor before going out the door. Porthos set a tray on the chest and settled down on the bed. With a sigh, he looked Aramis in the eyes. “Ain’t right,” he said quietly, “How he treated you.”

“You stood up for me, it was better than anyone else did,” Aramis said quietly.

“Yeah, but I want you to understand, he wasn’t always like this,” Porthos sighed.

“Well, this is what he’s like now,” Aramis hissed.

“You’re right, guess it don’t matter much other than to those who knew him before,” Porthos whispered, a faraway look in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Aramis repented, “That was uncalled for.”

“No, you’re basically a prisoner here, I’d resent him too. The only promise you’ll get from me is that I’ll treat you as best I can, as head of household,” Porthos sighed.

“Thank you,” Aramis whispered, “Who else lives here?”

“There are the ten guards, d’Artagnan’s their captain. There’s also me, and the maid Constance Bonacieux, and our cook Serge. Other than that, only you and Athos are left. I serve as his valet and head of his household, Constance cleans, and Serge tries to feed us the best he can,” Porthos sighed.

“So I’ll probably be helping Constance then?” Aramis asked.

“Probably, you’re a lucky bugger. She’s a good enough woman, though I think d’Artagnan’s sweet on her,” he said with a small smile.

“I’ll be epitome of honor,” Aramis said gallantly.

“I’m sure you will,” Porthos chuckled, “Now, you want your dinner?”

“No thank you, I find that I am not hungry, perhaps I’ll get some sleep,” Aramis said softly.

“Alright, I’ll leave it here,” Porthos sighed. He shut and locked the door behind him before leaving Aramis to his own devices. Aramis made his bed before cocooning himself inside the covers, using them as a shield against the outside world. He cried himself to sleep that night. Porthos entered early the next morning quietly, and he grumbled when he saw the full plate. He sighed and picked it up, depositing the bowl on the chest.

“Athos has ordered that you’ll remain in here today, now I’ll be back in an hour, could that breakfast be gone?” he asked with a hint of pleading. Aramis did not even respond. When Porthos returned in the hour, Porthos swore softly when he saw the full bowl. He ran a hand through Aramis’ hair, and Aramis found himself leaning into the touch. “Starvin’ yourself won’t do any good,” he said softly. When he didn’t respond, Porthos sighed and gave him a small squeeze before leaving. When he came and delivered lunch, he glared at Aramis.

“You gonna eat for me?” he demanded, probably deciding harsh love was the best option. Aramis only stared at him. With a steady gaze, he tucked the tray under Aramis’ arm and sat down, holding a spoonful of broth in front of his lips. “C’mon,” he encouraged, “You’ve gotta eat. W-would it help if d’Artagnan said that they caught all the bandits at the edge of the woods, killed all of ‘em before they got to the village?”

“They did?” Aramis rasped, his throat dry. Before he could realize his mistake, he had a spoon in his mouth, and Porthos gave a victorious crow. Porthos withdrew the spoon and laughed at Aramis’ glare of death. With that, he tried anything and everything to get Aramis to open his mouth again, but it only resulted in a staring match. An hour later, he departed from the room swearing. When the time for what was probably dinner came, Porthos entered with Athos.

“Porthos tells me that you are not eating,” Athos said coldly, “Or drinking for that matter.”

“I think that’s my choice,” Aramis rasped.

“How much has he had in the last two days?” Athos sighed.

“Other than what he had before he ran here? He just had the one spoonful of broth I was able to force in this afternoon,” Porthos sighed.

“Starvation is not an option, you still owe me a lifetime’s service, and I will not have that cut short. Porthos here will bring in Serge’s broth, which he will feed you, as you appear incapable of doing anything. If you refuse, Porthos will knock on the door, on the other side of which is d’Artagnan and another guard. After they hear the knock, d’Artagnan and Renault will come in and tie you to the bed while Porthos forces the broth into you. This shall continue until you come to the decision to take sustenance yourself,” Athos stated coldly. Aramis only looked at him silently. With a twirl, Athos stomped out of the room and slammed the door. Porthos stared after Athos, and Aramis looked up at the big man.

“I’m sorry, I know he’s a git, I’ll talk to him,” Porthos said softly.

“You aren’t responsible for him. Did he tell you he would do that?” Aramis asked after a small pause.

“No, he just said he was gonna convince you after I asked. I know he’s a bastard and you have no reason to respect ‘im, but he’s been through allot, and I just ask that you give him a chance,” Porthos said with a sigh. There was a silent desperation in his eyes, and Aramis was stunned at the ferocity behind the gaze.

“Why are you so determined that I like him, it isn’t as if it matters!” Aramis scoffed.

“No, no it don’t,” Porthos said quickly, much too quickly for Aramis’ taste. Aramis only looked at him in confusion. When Serge came in with the broth, Porthos lifted up the spoon and Aramis opened his mouth. Porthos whooped, and soon the bowl was empty. He gave Aramis a huge smile after he drained a cup of water as well, and then he tucked the blankets around him. “Sleep good!” he said excitedly, “We’ve got a big day tomorrow!” Aramis scoffed and slept after he watched Porthos dash out of the room, excited as a child on Christmas day. When Aramis fell asleep, he didn’t hear Porthos reenter the room and study him intently. He startled awake when the door closed softly, but he made sure to give no sign.

“What are you doin’ in here?” Porthos asked, and Aramis made very, very sure not to move.

“How is he?” Athos whispered, and Aramis heard Athos whisper.

“Eatin’, no thanks to you!” Porthos hissed.

“He ate, didn’t he?” Athos asked.

“You know,” Porthos bit out, “If you act like a complete and utter bastard, this is never gonna work!”

“I know,” Athos said softly.

“Well!” Porthos snapped, “You certainly don’t act like it. First, you make him a prisoner instead of invitin’ ‘im to stay like the plan was, then you threaten to hurt him!”

“Well I couldn’t very well have let him starve!” Athos hissed.

“Which would never have happened if you’d invited him in like a good man!” Porthos replied.

“Fine, I was wrong and you were right!” Athos bit out, “Is that what you would like to hear?!”

“You ain’t the only one that’s worried about this,” Porthos said softly, and Aramis heard Athos blow out a slow breath.

“Is it a stupid fear?” he asked quietly.

“That he’ll end up betrayin’ you like ‘er, not at all! Now, the fact that you push ‘im away because of that fear, _that_ is wrong,” Porthos sighed.

“And I’m sorry,” Athos said softly.

“Don’t tell me that!” Porthos scoffed.

“How do I fix this?” Athos whispered.

“You can’t fix the prisoner thing, but you can at least treat ‘im nice,” Porthos growled. Aramis’ heart gave a little jump at that concept.

“What kind of man do think I am? I am just as desperate for this as any of us,” Athos said softly.

“I won’t have ‘im used,” Porthos growled.

“And pray, do tell, what other _use_ do I have for him?” Athos bit out. Aramis almost cringed and ran screaming from the room. Use?! Oh God, please let that not be what he thought.

“He’s a person Athos!” Porthos hissed, “And you remember what she said, it had to be from the heart!”

“Then Thomas is doomed,” Athos breathed. There was a noise like flesh hitting flesh, and then a pained cry and thump. “What are trying to do, wake him?” Athos hissed.

“You’re the one who came bargin’ in, I just wanted to check on ‘im! Don’t you ever say that, not when I’ve thought it every night this year!” Porthos hissed. Athos groaned and Porthos sighed. “Wasn’t right to hit ya, but you can be a right git sometimes,” he said quietly, “Don’t you think I know what we’re risking? Don’t you dare think I don’t care about Thomas! This is your _one_ chance Athos, probably your last! For his sake, and for yours, don’t muck it up.” Then there were some footsteps, and the door shut with a soft click. He heard watery breathing, and Aramis was startled to find that the person inside the room was crying. Finally, the person stumbled out the door, and Aramis had to wonder who it was. He lay awake all that long night, for he had much to think over. When Porthos brought his breakfast the next day and settled himself in the chair to watch him eat it, Aramis made sure to eat with relish. When Porthos gestured him towards the door, he fairly scampered out of the small room. Porthos spent the day showing him the castle and grounds, but as they neared the stairs to the West Wing, Porthos steered him away with pretty words about the paintings that lined the walls. Aramis stepped a little closer to the stairs until Porthos pulled him back. “C’mon, there’s this really pretty one with a field,” he said with faked exuberance.

“I’ve seen plenty of fields,” Aramis murmured. Porthos sighed in defeat and pulled on his arm.

“Servants aren’t allowed in the West Wing,” he said quietly, “Only Athos and myself.” Aramis raised an eyebrow.

“And here I thought I was a prisoner,” he said imperiously.

“Please don’t be like that,” Porthos fairly pleaded, “C’mon, let me show you the dining room.” With a sigh, Aramis allowed Porthos to steer him along. He dined with the others for the first time that night, and to his surprise, Athos took his meal with them. Porthos pointed out that he usually did. When he was locked in his room that night, he wondered what was in the West Wing, and he was determined to find out. When the next morning came, Porthos set him to scrubbing the floors of the house, and Aramis had to wonder if this was what the rest of his life would be like. However, his day changed when he found Athos standing in front of him, and Aramis fought the urge to laugh as he shifted from foot to foot like a naughty child.

“I-I would be honored if you took dinner with me tonight,” Athos said with a shy smile.

“We always take it in the servant’s hall, I’ll sit with you if you like,” Aramis offered as he went back to his work. A pale hand lifted the brush gently from his grasp and set it aside.

“I-I meant in the dining room,” Athos said quietly. Aramis’ brows rose, and he smirked.

“Is this a seduction sir?” he smirked. Athos paled and quickly backed away.

“No, no!” he stuttered. Aramis fought the urge to laugh when he held up his hands in surrender.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll take it with the others, Constance went to the market today and I want to hear the news,” Aramis responded.

“I would very much appreciate it if you had dinner with me,” Athos said heavily.

“Why don’t you want to eat in the hall, you always do,” Aramis observed, wondering if he was coming off as being voluntarily thick as he said it, but he was genuinely curious as to why Athos was changing his routine. Porthos appeared from the East Wing and appeared to be watching the ensuing proceedings with a grin.

“You will eat dinner with me in the dining room tonight!” Athos yelled, confirming Aramis’ suspicions. He breathed heavily and flinched a little at the tone, and Athos stared at him coldly. “You will dine with me in the dining room tonight, or you will not eat at all,” he said quietly. Anger reared its ugly head in Aramis’ heart, and he stood up, his hands shaking in rage.

“Then you best get dressed, your outfit is quite dirty,” he hissed. With that, he flung the bucket of dirty water at Athos, drenching him completely. With a furious glare, Athos stomped off towards the study.

“Excuse me,” Porthos grunted as he walked by, a furious scowl on his face. He slammed the door to the study shut, and Aramis could instantly hear raised voices inside. He refilled his bucket and continued scrubbing the floors. When it finally neared time for dinner, Athos and Porthos exited the study, tense smiles on their faces.

“Join me for dinner?” he asked, “Please?” Aramis slowly nodded and took his offered arm. When they came to the dining room, a smiling Constance was there, along with Serge. Athos led Aramis to the seat on his right, and Porthos ushered the rest of the servants out. “I apologize for my demeanor today,” Athos said quietly, “That was uncalled for and cruel of me.”

“Thank you for the apology. I’m sorry for soaking you with water, that was also unkind of me,” Aramis admitted softly.

“I understand that these past few days have been trying for you, tell me, are you adjusting well? Is there anything, anything at all that I can assist you with?” Athos asked politely as he took a bite of chicken. Aramis sighed and rubbed his forehead, no use lying to the man.

“These last few days have very trying, and through no fault of mine, but your household has been very accommodating,” Aramis admitted.

“And myself?” Athos asked.

“It is hard to judge a man when the only interactions one has with him is a conversation where one enters lifetime servitude, a conversation about starvation, and one where half of it spent yelling,” Aramis said with a small sigh. Athos looked properly contrite, and he looked at Aramis apologetically.

“You are right of course, and for that I am sorry. Perhaps we could be more amicable in the future?” Athos asked quietly.

“I would like that very much,” Aramis replied. When Aramis was escorted to his room by a beaming Porthos, he had to wonder what tonight meant. Was it good that it went so well, or did it meant that he would soon be of use? As he lay in bed that night, he determined that he was going to find out what exactly was going on in this castle. It took a fortnight of careful planning before he could finally make his move. He was no longer locked in his room, so in the dead of night, he snuck out of his room and padded up the stairs in his bare feet. He lit a candle and saw that found that each of the rooms was normal. The last door to check was the one on the end, probably one of the larger bedrooms. Resigning himself to another unimportant room, he opened the door with a slight creak and stepped inside, not thinking to close it.

When he entered the room, he saw that it was dark. Letting the candle guide his way, he approached the bed and gasped when he saw that it was occupied. The man lying therein was only slightly younger than Athos, and was obviously a close relative. Neatly trimmed hair curled around his ears, his lips were drawn up into the small smile of sleep, and his skin was very pale. The only signs of life were the large movements of his chest, indicating that he was in a very deep sleep indeed. Aramis brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes, and stepped back somewhat. Was this Thomas, why was he hidden? Was he ill, just asleep? There was a creak by the door, and Aramis’ heart leapt into his throat when he realized that he’d left the door wide open and the candle was sending small beams of light throughout the room. Aramis backed into the center of the room where a flower stood in a vase, which was surrounded by glass.

“Porthos,” came Athos’ tired voice, “I’m sure he’s fine, go on back to bed.” Athos himself stepped into the room, and immediately stepped back when he spotted the room’s occupant. His face paled, and he staggered back against the door.

“What?” he breathed out shakily, “In the name of God are you doing in here?!”

“I-I…” Aramis stuttered, his heart hammering against his chest. Athos stepped forward with a snarl and seized Aramis by the lapels of his nightshirt.

“You were given one command,” he snarled, “One command, and you break it!” Athos’ face was inches from Aramis’, and the frightened man took a sudden step back. That was one of the worst mistakes of his life, and it sent them head-over-heels into the table. With an astonished cry, Aramis fell down as the table tipped over. Glass shattered as the table slipped sideways, and Aramis and Athos ended up in a heap on the floor. Athos’ panic filled scream was something that Aramis had never thought to hear. He crawled frantically towards the bed, and he bent over the unconscious man. “Thomas, Thomas, I’m sorry, please answer me, Thomas?!!” he screamed. Athos then collapsed in a heap beside the bed, sobbing hysterically, and by now Aramis could hear thundering feet up the steps. Porthos crashed into the room, a pistol gripped in one hand, and took in the upturned table.

“No,” he whispered, “Oh no, no no no no!” he dashed over to the bedside and raced over to Athos after looking at the sleeping man. He gathered him in his arms, and Athos seized his shirt in an iron grip as he cried. Porthos only shushed him and rocked him slowly, murmuring sweet nothings into Athos’ hair. Slowly but steadily, the sobs abated, only to leave hiccupped breaths. “That’s it,” Porthos encouraged, “Shh, everything’s gonna be just fine, hush now.” Eventually Athos was breathing calmly, and Porthos looked at the scene with horror-filled eyes. Aramis could hear the other servants outside the door, whispering amongst themselves. “What happened?” Porthos demanded, and Aramis wondered if he imagined the tears in Porthos’ eyes.

“I just wanted a look,” Aramis whispered in horror as he took in the carnage he’d caused.

“You did this?” Porthos hissed out in shock. Aramis could only nod, he wouldn’t run from the truth, he was at fault in this.

“I didn’t know,” Aramis whispered, “I didn’t mean to.” Porthos took in a large breath and looked at Aramis in anger.

“You still did it, but I know you didn’t mean it. You’re gonna be locked in your room tonight, Athos and you can talk details in the mornin’,” Porthos said solemnly.

“I am so sorry,” Aramis whispered, “Whatever this is, I’m sorry.”

“No,” a wrecked voice whispered, “I want him out.”

“Athos,” Porthos said in a tone that was meant to placate.

“No, I want him out, he hurt Thomas!” Athos hissed.

“Thomas is fine, I checked on him, he’s breathin’ same as before. I’m gonna go lock Aramis in his room, and you can talk in the morning,” Porthos comforted softly.

“I want him out!” Athos cried, “You heard me, get out!”

“Athos please!” Porthos said softly.

“I’m sorry, but no! You, get out of my house!” he snarled. Aramis breathed out a frightened breath, and he ran. He dashed down the stairs and scampered down the steps. He opened the gate and flew down the path, his feet pattering on the stone. He wasn’t sure for how long he ran, but his feet were burning with painful cuts when he finally stopped to gasp for air. He straightened when a howl split through the peaceful quiet. Wolves! He scrambled for a tree to climb, but there were none that had branches that were low enough. Like a caught rabbit, he dashed frantically around the clearing, only to find that he was surrounded. He seized a large branch and swung it at the nearest wolf. It fell over with a cry, and he dispatched a second. The third was able to leap on him, but he got the branch in between its teeth and rolled it over his chest. He braced himself for the forth, but screamed with something bit into his arm. He was somehow able to smack the attacking wolf with the branch, but his balance was upset in the dirt. He toppled over and his head smacked the ground. As he fainted, he thought he could hear the faint pounding of hooves.

When he awoke, he certainly wasn’t very comfortable. A thick bandage was wrapped around his head, along with one on his arm. Shifting his leg resulted in a clanking, and was shocked to see that his ankle was shackled to a stone wall. Looking about the room, he realized that he was in a dungeon. There was a single torch flickering against one wall, and Aramis realized that he had slept in a small pile of hay. A blanket was spread over him, though it only kept out some of the chill. He had no idea how long he lay there, contemplating his mistakes and choices, when the door creaked open. Porthos came in bearing a candle, and Aramis sat up in glee. Sighing, the man set a tray of bread and water in front of him, and he knelt down. Aramis flew to embrace him, only to be stopped by the chain attached to his ankle. Porthos gave him a mildly sympathetic look as Aramis looked up at him.

“Why am I here?” he asked. Porthos sighed and ran his hand through his short curls.

“Athos thought better of his decision a little bit after you’d gone. You were lucky that the wolves didn’t eat you!” Porthos sighed.

“Thank you,” Aramis said softly.

“You were damn lucky you weren’t hurt more! Why’d you do it?” Porthos asked.

“I heard you and Athos talking that night,” Aramis admitted, and he winced when he saw Porthos pale and take in a sharp breath.

“So you were curious,” he whispered in understanding. Aramis nodded, and Porthos ran a weary hand across his face.

“I’m gonna have to tell Athos, but we were both bein’ idiots that night. You were right to be curious. If he doesn’t wanna see you, I’ll come with more food in a few hours,” he said softly. Aramis nodded, and Porthos left the room. A short while later, Porthos came in with a key and his clothes, and to his delight, Aramis was freed. Porthos escorted him quickly to the study and ushered Aramis in. He closed the door behind the man with a click, and Aramis saw that Athos was sitting in front of the fire, gazing at it.

“You can approach,” Athos said softly, “I will not harm you, you have my word. I am sorry for throwing you in the dungeon…but my mind was not at its calmest.”

“I ran from you, you were just doing what you thought best,” Aramis said softly, “I could have easily bunked in the guardhouse and waited until you were calmer.”

“Your injuries?” Athos asked.

“Many scratches, but I feel fine. The worst was probably the knock to the head,” Aramis said softly.

“That is good, please approach, I want to talk,” Athos invited. Aramis tentatively approached the stoic man, and Athos got out of his chair and settled in front of the fire. He grabbed a blanket from a chair and wrapped it around Aramis’ shoulders. “Porthos told me of what you heard,” Athos said tentatively, “I am sorry that you heard us talking of you thus, the things you must have thought!”

“I was curious as to my…use,” Aramis admitted solemnly.

“You’ll come to no harm by me,” Athos swore, “You need know no more than that. Besides, your only use was the help you’ve been giving Constance.” Aramis didn’t believe him, not for a minute, but he let the lie stand.

“And Thomas, you seemed…disturbed last night,” Aramis said cautiously. Disturbed was really an understatement for what went on.

“He came to no harm, I only feared he did. No doubt you are curious, _were_ curious when you entered his room,” Athos said with a soft smile.

“I was, would…would you tell me what I saw last night?” he asked softly.

“You have heard of the Lady Anne, you would have been about twenty when she died,” Athos said softly.

“Yes, I heard about the trial, my mother, God rest her soul, was insistent we not go,” Aramis said.

“We were happy, I was happy, the two things I loved in my life were my wife and my younger brother, Thomas,” Athos said wistfully.

“And Thomas is upstairs?” Aramis asked.

“Yes. When I proclaimed that she would be hanged, she cast a spell on him, and he fell into a sleep that he couldn’t wake from,” Athos sighed.

“And the single forget me not?” Aramis asked.

“As soon as she was dead, Thomas collapsed and the flower grew under her. There were six petals on it, and one has fallen off each year at mid-summer. When all of the petals fall off, Thomas shall sleep forever,” Athos said softly.

“Oh Athos,” Aramis sighed, “And there’s nothing you can do?” The look that Athos shot him told him that there was.

“No,” he said much too swiftly.

“Liar, you and Porthos talked about my use, how you couldn’t muck it up for Thomas’ sake. I won’t be angry Athos, I promise,” Aramis said heavily.

“My wife, she saw that my heart hardened before she died. She said that unless someone came to love me and me them, Thomas would never wake,” Athos admitted in a voice that was barely heard.

“And I am the first stranger to come here, what’s probably your last hope,” Aramis breathed, “That’s why Porthos was so angry the first few days.”

“Yes, he said that I would never win you over if I acted thus, as if I had a chance,” Athos scoffed. Aramis looked at him sharply.

“You don’t know me, and quite frankly, I don’t know you! We could at least give one another a chance, if not for our sake then for Thomas’!” Aramis cried.

“You-you are willing to try?” Athos stuttered.

“Of course!” Aramis scoffed.

“Thank you,” Athos breathed, and to Aramis’ utter shock, Aramis found himself drawn into his arms. Aramis cleared his throat, and Athos looked down at him in embarrassment.

“If it was so important that I like you, why was I treated thus?” Aramis asked softly. Athos winced and blew out a breath.

“I was afraid. I was afraid that if I asked you to stay for a little while, you would say no and I would never see you again. I didn’t think, didn’t act like the good man my father raised me to be. When you were refusing to eat, I was _so_ afraid that you found me repulsive, that you’d rather die a slow and horrible death than live in the same house as I. And when you refused my invitation, all I could see was you laughing in my face when I told you about Thomas,” Athos said softly, “I’ve been an absolute beast, and for that I’m sorry.” Aramis sighed and put his arms around Athos this time.

“I’m not laughing, I’m not leaving, and I’m not repulsed,” he stated heavily, “But I am wondering why you didn’t just tell me straight off.”

“As Porthos said, he did not want you to be used,” Athos stated quietly.

“And both of you were afraid that if I knew, we would force it. You’re an idiot, you do realize that? The curse has to be lifted from the heart, and we don’t have much time before the flower wilts! Oh God, the flower! Athos, please don’t tell me that I…” Aramis begged frantically.

“We looked over the flower, and the petal was fine. The flower was bruised slightly, and in turn Thomas received a few, but they are both unharmed for the most part,” Athos said, his voice laced with relief. Aramis nodded and sighed gratefully. He never would have forgiven himself if Thomas had been harmed, and he doubted Athos would have either. “Treating you like a servant was wrong. If you are to be my true love, then I suppose you deserve the respect that comes with it,” Athos said softly.

“I am content as it is,” Aramis retorted.

“You will be moved into the rooms that are located next to mine,” Athos continued as if not even hearing him, “And I’ll hear no argument as to the contrary.” Aramis gave a small huff, and he swore that he heard Athos chuckle at the noise.

Summer turned to fall in the castle, and fall turned to winter as they dwelt in contentment. There were no more cruel words (though there were plenty of fights), and the house seemed to be getting a little happier with each day. Porthos was walking about with a big grin most of time, following them about and smiling. However, all was not perfect in their lives. Still the forget me not wilted, to the despair of all, and Athos knew that this summer would be the end, as did Aramis. The snows were beginning to thaw, and soon winter would yield to spring.

While Athos was busy with an affair between two barons one winter day, Aramis volunteered to bring Thomas his broth. While most of them were fairly sure that the curse would not allow Thomas to perish from starvation or thirst, they were still sure to take absolutely no chances. When Aramis ascended the stairs, he heard a low voice rumbling in the room. Porthos was one of Thomas’ most frequent visitors, outside of Athos, and Aramis entered the room quietly. Porthos did not even register him as he continued to talk to the man.

“Yeah, there’s been some trouble in the villages love. Some fool named Martin Lebarge got it into his head that ‘Mis was his betrothed and that his ‘kidnappers’ are torturin’ him. Constance heard about it when she went to the market. Apparently, he’s been sending out search parties and yellin’ about the Monster of la Fere. I don’t know love, I mean, I know that he’s only graspin’ at straws with this and it’ll probably come to nothin’, but some people are startin’ to listen. Once they heard about the curse, they got convinced that Athos is some beast, probably don’t help that he doesn’t go out at all,” Porthos sighed, “I need you back love, you were always so good with the people, gettin’ ‘em to listen and to like you.” Aramis walked forward quietly until he stood beside Porthos.

“He give you any advice?” he asked quietly.

“Naw, he’s been quiet today,” Porthos said quietly, “Who the hell is that Martin Lebarge anyways?”

“Just a pompous windbag that wanted my hand in marriage. The villagers all love him, everyone thought I was mad not to marry him,” Aramis mused quietly.

“And now?” Porthos asked.

“Maybe I was saving myself for someone better,” Aramis said with a small smile. Porthos beamed at him, and Aramis sat down on the edge of the bed, joining Porthos. The man brushed a stray lock of hair away from Thomas’ pale face, and he began to feed Thomas Aramis’ broth with a practiced hand. “Excuse me for asking this, but were you and Thomas…” Aramis said slowly.

“We would have been married six months from the day Anne hung,” Porthos whispered, “He was eighteen, I a year older, we were happy.”

“Oh Porthos,” Aramis sighed.

“It was hard at first, really the only thing that kept me on was the fact that Athos was worse, and I had a duty to him,” Porthos said softly.

“And now?” Aramis asked.

“Now there’s hope,” Porthos sighed, “I mean, the flower’s still wilting, but there’s a chance that you and Athos could do it. I mean, are you…” he asked tentatively.

“I think I might be falling in love with him,” Aramis whispered, “He’s been good to me, you all have, especially after the incident. I mean, even if we can’t wake Thomas,” Aramis whispered.

“You’ll still stay?” Porthos ended hopefully.

“If Athos wishes it, yes,” Aramis said. Porthos beamed at him once more and the broth was finally gone. They went down the stairs, and if Athos was much brighter in his conversation at their shared dinner, Aramis didn’t say anything. The spring feast came, and though there was no dance like in the villages, small gifts were exchanged and an elaborate dinner was had in the dining room. Aramis gave Athos a book of fairy tales (he and Thomas had always read them together, still did, though Athos was starting to run out of tales), and Athos beamed at him as he started flipping through, commenting on which ones he would read to Thomas first.

“C-Can we walk in the garden?” he asked quietly.

“Of course!” Aramis chirped. They left the others at the table and walked under the moonlit stars. When they came to a bench under a tree, they both sat down and gazed at one another. Athos very slowly brought a package out from behind his back. Aramis opened it curiously and gasped. Resting on his lap was a medical bag made of heavy cloth. Opening it, he could see beautiful, well made tools nestled in their pockets. “Oh Athos,” Aramis breathed. He remembered telling the man some time ago that the bandits had taken his beloved bag, but he’d thought the man had forgotten.

“You like it?” Athos asked hopefully.

“I do, I really do!” Aramis laughed. He threw his arms around him and squeezed. “Thank you,” he whispered. They pulled back, and Athos looked at him nervously. The man slowly leaned forward, and their lips met softly. Aramis leaned into the tentative kiss, and he opened his lips with a moan. Athos groaned into their kiss, and a hot tongue flicked between his teeth. With a gasp, Athos seemed to realize what was happening, and they drew back, both of them panting. “That was…” Aramis panted.

“I am sorry, I presumed too much!” Athos stuttered.

“No, no! Athos, that was beautiful, unbelievable!” Aramis gasped.

“It was?” Athos asked tentatively.

“Yes!” Aramis laughed. Athos smiled at him, a hopeful and careful thing, and Aramis clasped his hand.

“W-would you dance with me?” Athos asked slowly. Aramis smiled at him warmly, and he thought his heart would melt when Athos squeezed his hand.

“It would be my honor,” he said quietly. And so they danced, bodies entwined and slow, the stars their only witnesses and the moon their only chaperone. When Athos walked Aramis to his room, Aramis clasped his hand. “Would you like to stay?” Aramis asked softly, “I-I mean, we don’t have to do anything…”

“It would be my honor,” Athos said warmly, his lips quirked in a slight smirk. When the sun dawned, Aramis woke with his arms twined about Athos’ waist, and Athos’ arms twined protectively about him. They were both shirtless, and Aramis’ head was nestled on Athos’ bare chest. He contented himself with feeling Athos’ chest rise and his warm breaths ghost against his neck, as his head was tucked in that warm space between Aramis’ shoulder and neck. The door creaked open and Porthos peeked his head in. He gave a very unmanly squeal that Aramis really hadn’t expected of him, but he was hushed with a stern look.

“Don’t wake him!” Aramis whispered. Porthos immediately shook his head contritely and seemed to be vibrating.

“Did you-did you…?” Porthos asked excitedly.

“Of course not, we only had our first kiss last night!” Aramis scoffed, “What kind of animals do you take us for?!”

“I guess,” Porthos mumbled, and he actually had the gall to look disappointed!

“I don’t believe that Athos and I tearing our clothes off and pounding into one another, though it would be very fun, is a declaration of true love,” Aramis said dryly.

“I suppose so,” Porthos mumbled, “But I’m gonna go, and if I hear any weird noises, well, I guess that isn’t any of my business.” Aramis rolled his eyes and went back to the entertaining activity of feeling Athos breathe. Soon enough, the man stirred, and blue eyes blinked up at him.

“It wasn’t a dream,” Athos breathed.

“Of course not,” Aramis said warmly, giving Athos a gentle kiss on the lips. They lingered in bed until Porthos banged on their door and yelled that lunch was ready. They walked in the garden that day, and they were at their dinner when d’Artagnan burst into the room.

“Come with me,” he said heavily. He led them to the castle wall, and there they saw numerous torches and angry shouts from the woods, they were possibly half of an hour from the castle.

“Who are they?” Athos breathed.

“The villagers. I sent two men to scout, the man that Porthos spoke of, Martin Lebarge, is leading them,” d’Artagnan said heavily.

“Why? How did he find us?” Athos shuddered.

“Me. He wanted me to marry him, and I told him no, but he was persistent. He knew that I’d ventured into the woods, and you must have had Constance buy the bag from the market. I am the only healer in the villages, any equipment like that would have been known to be for me, and since they knew that Constance works in the castle…” Aramis breathed.

“I led them right to us,” Athos whispered. Aramis scoffed.

“You’re allowed to buy things, this is ridiculous!” Aramis scoffed.

“We’ll allow Lebarge and two others inside, talk to them and see if they can’t be convinced to return to their homes,” Athos stated heavily, “Have the guard arm themselves, but no one is to attack, their numbers are too great for a fight.” d’Artagnan nodded and dashed off.

“Porthos,” Athos said to the man that stood quietly behind them, “Retrieve my sword and have the servants lock themselves in one of the rooms.” Porthos nodded and walked quickly inside.

“What if they try to get in?” Aramis demanded.

“The gates are strong, they’ll not give. We have plenty of food for a siege, and this is mob, they’ll probably go home after a few days,” Athos said quickly.

“I’ll go and see if there’s anything for me in the armory, I’m pretty handy with a bow,” Aramis stated.

“No, please, go and lock yourself in with Constance and Serge!” Athos pleaded.

“I’m not going to hide in a room while you fight for me!” Aramis bit out, “Besides, these people think I’m some damsel in distress that’s been taken by a monster, whatever they decide, they’ll have to hear otherwise from me!” Athos nodded and Aramis quickly retrieved a bow from the armory. When the villagers pounded on the gate, Porthos handed Athos his sword. The man was armed himself with an axe, and they stared down at the shouting villagers.

“Let the leader Martin Lebarge come forth with two others, and we shall talk terms!” Athos shouted. The villagers murmured, and a big man, flanked by two older men, stepped up to the gate.

“Open the gate and we’ll talk!” the man bellowed, “But I want my betrothed back!” Athos signaled to d’Artagnan to open the gate, and soon Lebarge himself with the two men stepped inside. Athos and Aramis came down from the wall to treat with them, and Porthos followed protectively behind them.

“What business do you have in my castle?” Athos demanded, “And why do you come armed as bandits and thieves?!”

“I am Martin Lebarge, and I have come for betrothed, who you stole!” Lebarge shouted.

“I have stolen no one, and Aramis has told me that you were not promised to one another,” Athos replied. Lebarge’s face reddened, and Aramis stepped forward.

“He speaks the truth, I am here of my own free will, and I rejected Martin’s suite,” Aramis said softly.

“I was led to believe that you were thinking about it!” Lebarge snapped.

“You believed wrong! My heart belongs to Athos, I love him,” Aramis said resolutely. Porthos grinned, and Athos even had the nerve to blush.

“The beast has enchanted you,” Lebarge said shakily.

“Lad,” one of the men said tensely, “Perhaps we ought to go home…”

“No, he has affected Aramis’ mind with his spells!” Lebarge shouted.

“Will you lead the villagers home?” Athos asked of the older men.

“Aye, we’ll go home. We meant no harm my lord, the lad here made it sound like you’d locked Aramis in some tower. Our apologies, we’ll get the men to return to their homes,” one of the older men said quietly.

“No!” Lebarge screamed, “He’s a beast, it’s not true!”

“Lad!” the second older man scolded. Just then, Lebarge drew his sword and charged with a furious howl. He swung it at Athos, and Aramis screamed when he cut across Athos’ chest. There was a twang, and Lebarge fell, an arrow in his eye. Aramis, tears streaming down his face, gathered Athos in his arms.

“’Mis?” came the groan.

“You’ll be alright, I’ll patch you up!” Aramis pleaded. He lifted up Athos’ shirt, and he gasped when he saw the bad cut. “You’re going to be fine, I’ll patch you right up,” Aramis whispered.

“Did you mean it?” Athos groaned.

“Oh you dolt, I love you!” Aramis whispered.

“I love you ‘Mis,” Athos groaned, “Always.” Porthos’ eyes widened, and Athos smiled slightly before fainting. There was a cleared throat behind him, and the two men looked apologetic.

“We’re sorry, we’ll lead them home. The lad obviously wasn’t right in the head, he said that you’d been kidnapped and were being tortured, that he’d seen it,” the man whispered.

“I want you gone within the hour, you’ve done enough,” Aramis bit out. The men bowed and d’Artagnan sealed the gate behind them. They carried Athos into his room, and Porthos went to check on Thomas. There was a yell from Thomas’ bedroom, and only then did Aramis realized what they’d said.

When Athos stirred, he moaned in pain. A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he was eased back down. “Easy, easy,” the voice soothed, “You’re alright.”

“’Mis?” Athos groaned.

“Yes, now open your eyes, there’s a surprise waiting for you,” Aramis whispered. Athos blinked his eyes open, and then he gasped. Aramis was sitting down on the bed, smiling down at him with one hand still on his shoulder. He looked to see Porthos in a chair by the fireplace, a thick blanket around his shoulders. Dark rings were around his eyes, and Athos looked at Aramis.

“He looks exhausted,” he said softly.

“He is, after watching over you two,” Aramis said with a small smile.

“Us two?” Athos asked.

“Surprise is to your right,” Aramis whispered. To Athos’ right, there were two chairs placed together to make a small bed, and many pillows and blankets were placed in it. Lying therein was a sleeping Thomas. Athos gasped, and Aramis chuckled.

“We did say that we loved one another. And before you ask, he’s fine, I checked him over as soon as I was done with you. He’s very weak, but he’ll be fine, he’s been exhausting himself watching over you,” Aramis whispered.

“Thomas?” Athos asked shakily, reaching a shaking hand out. Thomas stirred with a little moan, and Athos beamed at him.

“’Thos?” he groaned.

“Oh Thomas!” Athos whispered, “I’ve missed you so!” Thomas struggled up from the chair, and soon enough Thomas had Athos in his arms.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” Athos whispered.

“No, no, it’s not your fault!” Thomas whispered, “I’m fine, you’re fine, and you did everything you could to get me back! Aramis told me the whole story.”

“Has he been telling you silly stories?” Athos asked.

“What was the silly part? Was it the part where you took him prisoner or confronted an angry mob?” Thomas scoffed.

“He may have told you the truth,” Athos said meekly.

“You’re an idiot,” Thomas scoffed, “It’s a good thing we have Porthos to keep things in line, and Aramis as well.”

“Yes,” Athos said softly, “We are lucky, very lucky indeed.”

One month later*

Porthos gazed lovingly into Thomas’ eyes as they swirled about the room. Both of the men were clad in pure white, and all of the guests watched as the two men enjoyed their bliss. “A fine wedding,” Athos said softly as he stood to the side with Aramis.

“For two very deserving gentlemen, they look so happy,” Aramis observed with a soft smile.

“Indeed, and they’ve certainly waited long enough,” Athos said softly. Aramis pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and Athos rubbed his back lovingly.

“I only hope ours is half as beautiful,” Aramis sighed.

“With you? With you it will be,” Athos said softly.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Aramis purred

“Well, Porthos did say that he would ignore any strange noises,” Athos observed.

“Is this a seduction sir?” Aramis said roughly.

“How observant, I trust that you will keep our appointment?” Athos asked imperiously.

“I have no other priorities. Now come, I think that they may start the feast soon,” Aramis softly. And thus, they filed out of the room. In the height of summer, Aramis and Athos were married in the bright forest. And so they lived happily ever after (though let no one say their lives were perfect) until the end of their days, which were very long indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I already have plans for "Sleeping Beauty" and "Rapunzel", but if there are any more fairy tales that you'd like, feel free to ask!


	3. The Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis wants to go see some lights, Porthos is accommodating, and Athos is along for the ride. Portamis "Rapunzel" with fem!Treville/Richelieu!

         Once, there was a young king and his queen. The king was very wise and good, and he was beloved by his people. His queen was a strong and benevolent woman, kind in her heart and soul, but strong as steel and a great warrior. The king and queen rejoiced when the queen pronounced herself with child, and the entirety of the kingdom with them. When the golden haired queen gave birth to a son, the whole kingdom rejoiced at the arrival of Prince Aramis. Dark of hair was he, like his father, and his brown eyes were his mother’s. In addition, his right shoulder bore the mark of a star, one with six points. The kingdom rejoiced for seven days, welcoming their new prince. The birth had been a hard one, and it was known that no more children would the queen have. But the king and the queen were happy. However, tragedy soon struck. After the queen placed the prince in his cradle, she and the king retired; they did not hear the creak of the door, the steps of his kidnapper, or the shutting of the door. When the king and queen rose the next day, the cradle was empty, and the infant prince was nowhere to be found.

          The kingdom was in turmoil, and the army was called to search. The king’s beloved younger brother, Rochefort, held the regency while the king and the queen searched the land, the army behind them. The king and the queen were forced to return empty-handed, and Rochefort searched himself. When Rochefort was also defeated, the king proclaimed a reward of one thousand gold coins, but knew that he could search no longer. Many search parties were let forth to find the young prince, but all were forced to return in defeat. The king proclaimed that lanterns would be released into the sky each year on the day of the prince’s birth, as a light to guide him home and as a sign of hope. Rochefort remained in the capitol, assisting his brother with the kingship, much to his brother’s relief. The king and queen despaired as the prince’s nineteenth year grew nigh, as it was on the nineteenth day of his birth that the king would be forced to name an heir, as per tradition. It was whispered that the king would be forced to name Rochefort. In a remote part of the kingdom, a large tower there was, with no doors, and the only windows were those at least twenty feet above the ground. In the west-facing window, a young man was dreaming of the lights that would light the skies in a fortnight.

            Aramis gazed up at the sky and watched the clouds go by as he hummed a little tune to himself. A slap to his rear had him yelping, and he winced when he saw Mother glaring at him. “You were daydreaming again,” she stated, “Do you have all of the chores that must be done while I’m gone?” He recited the list to her, the list that only seemed to grow and grow the more times she went away on her errands. “Very well, you know the rules,” she stated.

            “Yes Mother,” he stated formally. He wished with all his heart that he could go with her, that he could and see the wide world that was stretched outside his window. He would always daydream of it, but mother said that the world was full of danger and sorrow, and that it wasn’t a safe place for one such as Aramis. Aramis was too naïve, much too soft, he would be killed in an instant! Aramis gave a sigh and accepted the list his mother gave him, all of the items of which needed to be crossed off, or else Aramis could forget about his birthday present in two weeks. “Mother?” he asked as she put on her gloves. He never knew how she got out of the tower, she’d always instructed him to remain in his room until he saw her wave at him from the ground. He’d searched for the magic door when he was younger, when she would go off on long trips and leave him to himself. She didn’t go on long trips anymore much anymore, he was almost never left more than three days straight. This time, she would be gone for over a fortnight. Once a year, she was forced to journey to the far-off markets to get the things they needed, and she would always come back laden with treats.

            “Yes my star?” she asked quietly.

            “I was wondering, for my birthday…” he said quietly.

            “You have a wish?” she asked.

            “I would very much like to see the lights, the lights that are sent up on the day of my birth,” he whispered.

            “The lights?” she asked. Aramis nodded, and his mother looked at him coldly.

            “What is the rule, Aramis?” she asked.

            “I don’t leave the tower,” he whispered.

            “Because?” she prompted.

            “The world is dangerous and I am not ready for it,” Aramis recited.

            “You are never to set foot out of this tower,” Mother whispered coldly.

            “But Mother!” Aramis protested. A hand seized his hair, and any and all protests stopped. He breathed out shakily, and Mother looked at him sternly.

            “You are _never_ to set foot outside this tower. If you do, I _will_ find you, and I assure you that the consequences will not be good,” she hissed.

            “Yes Mother,” Aramis whispered, fighting the urge to cry in defeat. She swished out of the room, and he raised his hand when he saw her at the bottom of the tower. When she was gone, he fished his drawing out of the bed. He unrolled the parchment and smiled when he saw the drawing of the lights, his mother and himself under them, watching them in awe. A tear dropped onto the parchment, and then another and another, soon he was clutching the parchment to his chest, sobbing in a ball on the floor. He was pathetic, he really was! He could just as easily watch the lights from his window, just as he did every year. He knew that it was a stupid wish, but he wanted to see the outside world so badly! He wanted to walk in the grass for the first time, bathe in the river, dance under the sun, how could something so pretty be dangerous? He sniffled and looked down at his parchment. No matter what Mother said, she could never take away his dreams, those were his to have and do what he wished with. With a small smile, he traced the outlines of the lanterns on the parchment and tucked it away into its hiding place.

            He was just beginning to debate on doing his chores when there was shouting from below. He gasped, it was a stranger! He trembled and looked around frantically, this had never happened before! Hide, he had to hide! He scrambled out of his room and down into mother’s bedroom. There was a wardrobe in there, one he’d always used to hide in! He shoved himself into the wardrobe and waited. He trembled in the darkness before, but he was a little curious as well. Then, he heard more voices shouting from a little distance! He shook in fear, were they bandits, like Mother said?! There was a rumbling, and he tensed up. Boots crept into the room, and Aramis fought the urge to scream. There was someone in the tower! The boots stopped in front of the wardrobe, and he saw now that it was open a crack. The door was thrown open, and he beheld the big man on the other side. His dark eyes were wide, and his thick arms grasping the doors quivered.

            “What the…no no!” he whispered when he saw that Aramis really was going to scream. “Please, please, don’t scream, I’m sorry! I found the door, and there were bandits, and I’m sorry!” he whispered.

            “Bandits?” Aramis hissed. The voices were still very close, but Aramis could tell that they were at least getting farther away.

            “Shh, please!” the man hushed. Aramis huddled back farther into the wardrobe, but the man just picked him up and hefted him out. Aramis let out a small squeak, but the man put him down against Mother’s bed, and he sat next to him. When the voices were finally gone, they both sighed in relief. Aramis looked up at the man and came to the sudden realization that this was his first stranger!

            “I’m Aramis,” Aramis said shyly.

            “Porthos du Vallon,” the man said with a small smile, “You live here by yourself, or with the woman I saw comin’ out as I hid in the trees?”

            “That’s my mother, she and I are the only ones who live here,” Aramis said, “It is good to meet you Porthos, but why were you running from bandits?”

            “Well, those men had stolen from a village about a week back, and they paid me to steal it back. Well, let’s just say that they didn’t take too kindly to it when they caught up with me outside the village,” Porthos laughed.

            “That sounds exciting, I’ve never met a bandit before!” Aramis said.

            “And here’s to hopin’ you never do! Sorry for scarin’ ya, I’ll be on my way,” Porthos scoffed.

            “No wait! Stay for lunch…please?” Aramis asked with a hint of pleading. Porthos looked at him wistfully, and then he finally nodded. Aramis led him down to the kitchen, chattering on about the different pictures he’d painted on the walls and when he planned to see them.

            “Why is that one of you lyin’ on the grass?” Porthos asked in confusion.

            “Well, Mother said that lying in the grass is fun, and she also said that it feels very funny,” Aramis said wistfully. He couldn’t say how many times he’d just wanted to lay down in that sea of green.

            “You’ve never touched grass before?” Porthos asked quietly, his eyes wide, “You’ve _never_ been out of this tower, have you?”

            “No, Mother says I’d get killed before I got three feet,” Aramis sighed.

            “Your mother sounds like she knows too much for ‘er own good,” Porthos rumbled, something like anger in his eyes.

            “She knows best,” Aramis said, repeating the phrase that she told him almost every day.

            “Well, maybe she don’t,” Porthos retorted. Aramis started, and Porthos apologized, not really sounding very sorry at all. Aramis scampered around the kitchen and ignored Porthos’ protests that he really could help, and soon the two were tucking into the food. When they were all finished, Porthos looked to him. “That was good, thank you,” he said quietly.

            “A-are you sure you can’t stay longer?” Aramis asked, berating himself for how desperate he sounded.

            “I suppose I could,” Porthos mused. They talked for a long time, Porthos always had the most exciting things to tell! After Aramis fed him dinner, Porthos asked him when his birthday was.

            “I’ll be nineteen winters in a fortnight,” Aramis, internally wincing at the reminder of this morning’s conversation.

            “Really?! So, what’s your birthday wish?” Porthos asked.

            “I would really like to…well, what I really wish is…it’s nothing, just a dream, stupid,” Aramis sighed.

            “Oi now, dreams ain’t stupid, who said so?!” Porthos demanded, though after looking at his face, Porthos already knew the answer.

            “I asked Mother today, she said we couldn’t leave the tower,” Aramis whispered, “It was stupid to ask, I can watch it from the window like I do every year. I just-I wanted this one to be special.” He sighed, he guessed there was no use crying over spilled milk.

            “You can tell me,” Porthos offered, “I promise I won’t laugh.” Aramis thought about that, after all, how long had he known this man? Mother was right, he was much too trusting. But, it seemed like he could trust Porthos, and Mother also told him to follow his instincts.

            “I wanted to go see the lights, the ones that only come on my birthday,” Aramis whispered.

            “And she wouldn’t let you leave the tower,” Porthos said, understanding dawning in his eyes, and a little pity as well.

            “It’s fine really, it was stupid of me to ask, I watch them from my window every year,” Aramis stated.

            “Dreams aren’t stupid, or wishes, and you’re allowed to ask for things,” Porthos responded firmly. Aramis thought it might be best to leave off from this topic, it was getting late anyways.

            “Do you want to stay the night?” he offered.

            “I best, gettin’ dark, besides I got nowhere to be,” Porthos said with a smile. Aramis beamed, and he retrieved some spare blankets and pillows from their closet. He made himself a nest on the floor in front of the fire in his room while Porthos took the bed. Porthos tried to insist that Aramis at least sleep in his own bed, but Aramis was insistent, Porthos spent most of his nights on the road, and he didn’t get a good bed very often. Aramis knew he’d made the right decision when Porthos sank into the bed with a deep sigh of contentment. Aramis snuggled under the blankets and was soon asleep. He didn’t know that Porthos spent much of the night awake, thinking and planning, starting up at the ceiling determinedly.

            When Aramis awoke the next morning, Porthos was already moving about and humming. Once they’d eaten breakfast and retreated back to Aramis’ room, Porthos looked at him. “Your Mother won’t be back until four days after your birthday, right?” he asked.

            “Yes, a-are you going to stay?” Aramis asked excitedly.

            “Well, first I’d like to give you your birthday present,” Porthos stated with a weighted look. Aramis squirmed excitedly, and was even more curious after Porthos blindfolded him. Aramis heard him rummaging about his room and mumbling to himself. “I’m gonna leave you here for a minute, whatever you do, don’t peek!” Porthos said warmly. Aramis nodded, what was Porthos doing? He came back up after a while, and something jingled. Aramis yelped when something thick was pulled onto both of his bare feet, and then something very heavy. He squeaked when he was lifted up gently and Porthos began to walk.

            “Where are we going?” Aramis asked in confusion.

            “As I said, it’s a surprise,” Porthos whispered. There was a rumble, and Porthos took him into somewhere very cool. However, the real shock came when they were out of there and into another place. There was another rumble, and then Aramis listened. He heard birds chirping, and there was the rustling of trees, all of them noises he’d heard before, but never so closely. He gasped when he guessed the surprise. Porthos gently eased himself down, and his hand was run along something very strange. The blindfold was gently taken off, and Aramis blinked in the bright light. Porthos was grasping his hand and running it through the grass, and Aramis sighed in wonder. He ran a shaking hand through it, and Porthos grinned above him. He gently set him down, and Aramis just curled up in a ball. It was so green, and there was a whole sea of it surrounding him! “Like your surprise?” Porthos whispered. Aramis nodded enthusiastically.

            “I forgot you knew where the door was,” he whispered.

            “Yup,” Porthos said triumphantly, “But you lyin’ around in the grass and gettin’ yourself all dirty ain’t the surprise,” Porthos said proudly.

            “What is, what’s my birthday present?” Aramis demanded excitedly.

            “Well, as I see it, it takes us two days to get to the castle going straight, one if we push it and use the road. So, we can get to the city, see the lights, and be back before your mother even knows we’re gone,” Porthos said proudly.

            “We-we can’t Porthos,” Aramis whispered, on the verge of tears.

            “Why not?” Porthos asked softly.

            “Mother said…” Aramis whispered.

            “What did Mother say?” Porthos prompted. Slowly and cautiously, Aramis related the tale. He paled when he saw the rage in Porthos’ gaze.

            “I was being stupid, she had every right to…” Aramis tried to placate him.

            “She didn’t, she had no right! I promise you right now, I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you while I’m here,” Porthos stated fiercely. Aramis looked up at him hesitantly.

            “You don’t know me, and I don’t really know you,” Aramis whispered.

            “Plenty of time for talk on the road. Please Aramis, do it for yourself, for your dream,” Porthos said softly. Without really thinking, Aramis found himself nodding. Porthos gave a whoop and leapt up. “You wanna lie in the grass or walk? I brought plenty of food, so we can take our time,” Porthos stated. Aramis looked down at his feet, which were feeling strange, and gawked at them.

            “What are these?” Aramis breathed.

            “Boots, got ‘em from a friend and they didn’t really fit. You don’t wear shoes?” Porthos asked.

            “Never needed them, only Mother did,” Aramis breathed out in excitement.

            “You ready to go?” Porthos asked with a soft smile. Aramis nodded enthusiastically. Porthos talked to him constantly, telling him about the things he was seeing while Aramis asked what must have been a thousand questions. The sun was getting high when Porthos found the road.

            “Sun’s getting high, and I know the lady who owns the tavern up ahead,” Porthos said, “We can stop there for a little while, we’ve made good time today.”

            “What’s your friend’s name?” he asked excitedly as they walked up to the sturdy inn. The sounds of laughter could be heard drifting out from the tavern, and the place looked to be very warm and welcoming.

            “Flea, she’s been a friend since we were kids,” Porthos replied. They entered the tavern, and a wave of warmth hit them. The tavern was loud and raucous, and most of the seats were filled. A blonde woman with piercing green eyes smiled brightly at Porthos before walking over.

            “Been a while since you’ve been here,” she said with a smile.

            “Yeah, too long,” Porthos laughed before embracing her, “Good to see you Flea!”

            “Good to see you too, who’s this?” she laughed.

            “I’m Aramis,” Aramis said quietly as he looked around in awe. He’d never seen so many people before, and all of them different! When Porthos smiled at him, Flea laughed.

            “Shy?” she asked.

            “No, just ain’t used to much company,” Porthos said.

            “Make yourselves comfortable boys, lunch is on me,” Flea invited.

            “Thank Miss Flea!” Aramis chirped.

            “It’s Flea, and anything for a friend!” she said warmly.

            “C’mon, stick close, some of the people here ain’t exactly good influences,” Porthos warned.

            “Oh come now, every patron of _The Court of Miracles Tavern_ is of unimpeachable reputation, though their professions may not be exactly legal!” Flea laughed.

            “As I said, stick close,” Porthos sighed. However, as soon as they sat down, Aramis thought it would be a good idea to talk to their neighbor, who looked like he could knife the man at any moment. Porthos stared with wide eyes as the man seemed to be actually _smiling_.

            “Yes, Porthos is taking me to see the lights for my birthday!” Aramis said excitedly.

            “Aw lad, you’ll have fun, ‘tis a beautiful sight to see,” the man said in what could almost be wistfulness.

            “Really, have you ever seen them?” Aramis asked, his eyes shining. The man and he engaged in a very delightful conversation, and soon every other person in the tavern was telling him about the lights. When they struck up a drinking song, Porthos only stared as Aramis got everyone to join in. Flea set a mug in front of him and settled herself next to him.

            “So,” she said quietly.

            “So?” he scoffed.

            “You know what I mean! What exactly are you planning to do with him Porthos?” Flea asked.

            “I’m takin’ ‘im to see the lights,” Porthos stated. Flea raised her eyebrows skeptically. “He was all alone in some tower Flea, all alone except for his mother! He’s never left, and his one dream for his birthday is to see the lights, which ‘is mother refuses to let ‘im do! So, if he wants to see the lights, we’re gonna go and see the lights!” Porthos hissed. Flea looked at him with wide eyes, and then a grin broke across her face.

            “You, my friend, are falling for him,” Flea said with a huge grin.

            “I am not! I mean, sure, ‘e’s a cute little bugger, but I ain’t sweet on ‘im!” Porthos protested.

            “If you say so,” Flea scoffed, “But I’d go stop your _friend_ before Claus drinks him under the table.”

            When Claus, nice man that he was, handed Aramis another drink, Porthos walked up and cleared his throat. Ale was amazing, he’d had two already! However, their little escapade was cut short when Porthos seized his hand.

            “C’mon ‘Mis,” he said with a smile, “We’ve gotta hit the road. We can use the road now, so it’ll be easier goin’.”

            “But what about the trees and animals, I liked seeing them,” Aramis said with a slight tinge of disappointment.

            “There’ll be plenty of trees and animals on the road love, new people too,” Flea said with a chuckle. Aramis jumped up, thanking Claus for the game and everyone for the song and stories about the lights, when a man burst through the door. “What is it Matthew?” Flea demanded when she saw that it was one of her workers.

            “The guards, they’re raiding the place again!” Matthew cried. There were grumbling murmurs at this.

            “What does that mean?” Aramis hissed.

            “Well, the guards sometimes go to places that are known to have criminals. They arrest everybody in the place, ask ‘em a few questions, and then release ‘em if they’re not wanted,” Porthos sighed, “Not dangerous or scary really, just a nuisance, since Flea’s tavern’s got a reputation.”

            “Really?” Aramis asked.

            “Yeah, previous owners weren’t interested in caterin’ to anybody good,” Porthos sighed.

            “Do-do we have to get arrested?” Aramis asked quietly, “I-I mean, I don’t mind, but…”

            “Flea, you still got a back door?” Porthos asked.

            “Yeah, you wanted?” she scoffed incredulously.

            “No, but we gotta get on the road,” Porthos sighed.

            “Back door’s where it always is, good luck boys,” Flea stated. Porthos nodded at her, grasped Aramis’ wrist, and ran lightly through the back door. When they entered the forest, a slight ring sounded from in front of them.

            “Stop there!” a young voice barked. A man, about their age with brown hair and blue eyes, emerged from this trees with his sword drawn. “You’ve just come for from a tavern that this under a raid, drop your weapons to the ground!” he commanded. Porthos slowly fingered his belt and started to lower it to the ground, only to pick us some dirt and fling it in the man’s eyes. The man roared out an angry cry, and Aramis looked at him with wide eyes.

            “Run!” he bellowed. There was no going back now, the man obviously thought that they were wanted. Aramis scampered into the woods, and Porthos pounded after him after grabbing his belt. They dashed into the woods, and they could hear the guard crashing behind them. Why hadn’t they just let themselves get arrested?! Porthos should have said no, should have just told Aramis that it would be alright, and that was probably what Aramis thought that he would do. But oh no, Porthos was determined that they should be on the road as quick as they could be! Aramis ran onto the path that formed ahead of them, and Porthos realized with a start that an old mine, now dry, was ahead. “Into the mine!” Porthos panted, “We can hide in there!” Aramis nodded and they ran onwards.

            Aramis gasped as he saw the old mine looming up ahead of them. He heard Porthos running behind him, and he seen raced under the beams. Porthos rushed in behind him, and the two ran down the mineshaft, Porthos’ hand on his wrist as he led him through the dark tunnels.

            “I know you’re in there, come out now!” a voice bellowed, and Aramis’ heart crashed into his throat. Porthos pulled them into another passage, and they pressed against the wall. The ceiling was dripping, and Porthos winced.

            “The river near the mine must have changed course, it’s comin’ in,” Porthos whispered.

            “Come out now!” a voice cried in the mine, and they realized that the man was in the tunnel. There were steps inside the tunnel, and Aramis gripped Porthos’ hand, and received a squeeze in return. When there was a rumbling from above and a creaking in the beams, Porthos’ eyes went wide.

            “Get out!” he screamed, “It’s goin’ down!” The burden of the river was too much for the support beams, and with a groan, the support beams and the roof gave out in the mine. They ran as fast as they could, but when the earth crashed down upon their heads and the blackness closed in, Aramis wondered if he really should have left his tower.

            When he woke up with a small moan, he immediately lifted his pounding head and looked about. He was curled up on the floor and covered in dirt, and a few feet away he could see that Porthos was in the same position. He heard a roaring, and he looked to see that his hands were in water. The river, it was coming in through the roof! He splashed over to Porthos and shook his shoulder. Porthos groaned and blinked at him.

            “Porthos, you have to get up, the water’s coming in through the roof!” Aramis screamed.

            “Help me up,” Porthos rasped. Aramis helped him get to his feet, and together they stumbled down the tunnel. Water was rushing into the tunnel, and it was up to their ankles when they reached the end of the tunnel. Against one wall lay the young guard, but the worst part was that the tunnel end was blocked. Aramis started to haul on the rocks, and he could hear Porthos trying to rouse the guard, who then started moaning. Aramis was throwing rocks away from the wall, but it was no use! The water was now up to their knees and climbing steadily. When the water was up to their chests and Porthos had the guard in his arms, his head cradled on his shoulder, the man finally came to. He saw the rising water and shuddered. “We’re gonna be fine, Aramis, is there any give?” Porthos demanded.

            “No!” Aramis yelled. The guard looked at them in horror as rocks only skittered down when Aramis yanked yet another stone out of the way. The water was up to their necks when Aramis finally realized when he’d been doing wrong. He climbed on the pile and began to pull the stones from the top. First one came, and then another and another. Suddenly, a shaft of sunlight stabbed into the tunnel.

            “Hurry!!” Porthos bellowed. Aramis looked and saw that it was up to Porthos’ chin and still rising. Aramis’ head was well above the water since he was higher, but they all couldn’t climb the rocks. When Porthos and the guard started treading water, their heads turned up so that they could breathe, Aramis finally got a small hole inside the top. He finally got a hole big enough that they could crawl through, and then he helped the guard scramble into the hole. When he looked back for Porthos, the only thing he saw was a large hand disappearing into the water.

            “Porthos!” Aramis screamed. He dove back into the water, and he swam around frantically. When he finally spot a dark blur, his lungs were burning. He gripped the big man and heaved with everything he had. When they finally reached the rocks, he heaved Porthos up. Their heads were just above the water, and Aramis was able to somehow shove Porthos through the hole before getting in himself. They both tumbled down from the rocks and down onto the ground. When Aramis got onto his hands and knees, coughing up what seemed buckets of water. He crawled over to Porthos and placed an ear on his chest. There was no heartbeat. “Porthos, Porthos, answer me!” Aramis screamed. He thrust his hands down on his chest once, twice, thrice before Porthos started to cough. Aramis turned him onto his side and rubbed his back, murmured encouragement as he coughed and coughed. When Porthos was panting and gasping on the ground, a sword was placed on the juncture between Aramis’ neck and shoulder, and Porthos’ eyes grew wide. The cold steel left Aramis’ skin and he heard it being sheathed.

            “You are both under arrest!” the guard’s voice rasped behind him. Aramis squeaked as his arms were pulled roughly behind him and a wet coil of rope was used to tie his hands behind his back. Porthos gave a growl and tried to rise, but descended into a fit of coughing and was forced to lie back down. The guard tightened the knots until Aramis winced, and then he began to search him for weapons.

            “Get off of him!” Porthos rasped, “We ain’t do nothin’ wrong!”

            “Please, we aren’t wanted,” Aramis said softly.

            “You were seen fleeing the tavern at the time of the raid, that means that you must be questioned,” the man said formally.

            “So what, everythin’s by the book then?” Porthos scoffed in disgust.

            “Please, we only want to get to the city,” Aramis whispered.

            “And you will be allowed to continue on your journey after you report to my superiors,” the man stated.

            “We saved your life you git! We didn’t have to shove you through that hole first!” Porthos bellowed as the man checked Aramis’ knots.

            “He’s right, we saved your life,” Aramis added.

            “And for that, I am forever grateful,” the man whispered.

            “Can we at least know your name?” Aramis demanded.

            “I am Athos of the guards,” the man said.

            “Just please, let us go, Porthos is only taking me to see the lights,” Aramis said wistfully.

            “The lights, you mean the lanterns?” Athos asked.

            “I’ve only watched them through my window, it’s my birthday present,” Aramis said softly. Athos knelt in front of him, a conflicted look on his face.

            “I have your word, both of you, that you are not wanted,” Athos said heavily.

            “No,” they both said quickly.

            “I suppose you were never in the tavern then, besides, I can’t really prove it,” Athos said softly. He cut Aramis free, and as soon as Aramis was free, the man embraced him excitedly.

            “Oh thank you, thank you thank you!” he breathed. Athos, visibly uncomfortable, patted his back.

            “You are very welcome,” he murmured. Porthos brushed himself off and sighed.

            “You know where the rest of your troop is?” he asked.

            “No, I’m newly commissioned and don’t know the area around the city very well. Perhaps I could go with you,” Athos mused, though he didn’t look happy at all about the idea, and neither did Porthos.

            “I suppose you could,” Aramis said thoughtfully.

            “Yeah, great fun,” Porthos grunted.

            “C’mon Porthos,” Aramis said softly, “We’ve wasted enough of the day, I suppose we’ll have to stop soon.”

            “Yeah, we best get back to the road at least,” Porthos grunted. With that, they walked onwards, Porthos very unsteady on his feet and leaning a great deal on Aramis, until they reached the road once more. They only walked for about an hour or so before they made camp. Aramis watched as Porthos lit a small fire, and Athos reefed through their sopping packs to see if anything was still useable. The bedrolls just needed to dry out, but much of the food was not eatable. Athos looked about the road, and soon reported that there was a tavern about half a mile down the way. Procuring some coin from each of them (Porthos had found some in the tower and put it in their packs), Athos went back to the tavern and soon came back with a few day’s rations of food. They ate in mostly silence, with Athos and Porthos glaring at one another across the fire. When they all settled down, Aramis was almost asleep when he heard the first voices.

            “So tell me,” Athos bit out, “What are you really going to do with him? I know that he believes that you are going to take him to the lanterns, why I have no idea, but I’ll have the truth.”

            “The lights are the truth,” Porthos said slowly. Aramis heard Athos scoff, and he almost flinched…Porthos was taking him to the lights, right?

            “Why in heaven’s name would his one birthday wish be the lanterns?” Athos scoffed.

            “Because every year, he’s only been able to watch them from his window, even though he lives two days from the castle!” Porthos hissed.

            “If he was so curious, why not go and see them before?” Athos asked.

            “Just let me start from the beginning. I got hired to kick some bandits reclaim some stolen items from bandits by a small village. I did the job, and they caught up to me outside of it. I ran like mad and hid out in the woods, but they were still onto me. All of a sudden, I come up on this tower, and I watch to see if I might hole up there. This woman came out of a secret door in the side of castle, so I thought it was empty. I just wanted to hide there for a few hours, so I got to the door and found out how to open it. I got into this bedroom, and I hear some shuffling from the wardrobe, and the door was open slightly, he was huddled in there,” Porthos said heavily.

            “What was he doing in there?” Athos asked, sounding curious.

            “Hidin’. He’d heard the bandits and had hidden himself in there, and then I found ‘im. I don’t know who was scared more, me or ‘im. I convinced him not to start yellin’, and we sat down and talked quietly till the bandits left. He fed me, and he told me that he only lives there with his mother,” Porthos continued.

            “The woman?” Athos asked.

            “Probably, there ain’t anybody else that lives there. He told me that he’d never been outside the damn tower, that she wouldn’t let him out,” Porthos said softly.

            “Never?!” Athos breathed out.

            “Never, hadn’t even lay in the grass before. He’d never met anyone new before, and he was so excited to see me. I stayed the day, and he told me about how he’s lived there all his life with his mother, she told him that he couldn’t leave, would never survive out in the world,” Porthos said softly.

            “Well, he proved her wrong today,” Athos stated, something like pride in his voice.

            “Yeah, he saved us, did good,” Porthos chuckled.

            “I-I apologize for trying to arrest you today, it was ill done,” Athos said softly.

            “You were just doin’ your job,” Porthos responded.

            “Thank you, but please, continue your story,” Athos prompted.

            “Well, I told him I’d spend the night, he’d convinced himself that the lanterns were stupid, that he was just bein’ an idiot and could watch ‘em from his window,” Porthos explained.

            “No dream is stupid, no matter how simple it may seem,” Athos added, his voice a whisper.

            “My thoughts exactly. His mother told him that he couldn’t leave the tower, so I thought all night about what I would do. I knew that we were basically strangers, but I couldn’t leave ‘im there, couldn’t abandon him to a lonely life like that. So, the next morning, I told ‘im that I had a surprise, blindfolded ‘im, grabbed what I thought we would need, and took him outside. You should have seen his face was he saw that he was outside, I’ve never seen a bigger smile. I told him that I’d go and take him to see the festival, but he said that his mother threatened him,” Porthos continued, a growl coming into his voice at the end. Mother had never threatened him!

            “With what?” Athos asked.

            “She told him that she’d find him and that he wouldn’t like the consequences. He thought that she was in the right,” Porthos growled.

            “Do you think she would follow us?” Athos asked heavily.

            “I don’t think so, she should’ve been a day away when we set out. Even if she did follow us, I’d never let her hurt ‘im, I promised him that when we started,” Porthos whispered.

            “And after the festival, are you just going to drop him back off at his tower?” Athos asked incredulously.

            “Hell no! I’ll never bring him back there, never again. I’ll convince him somehow, he can stay with me, or he can carve out his own life. It’s his choice, but I’ll never take him back there,” Porthos growled.

            “Does he know that?” Athos asked, though he sounded a little amused.

            “No,” Porthos said, sounding a little petulant. Athos laughed and Porthos growled.

            “I’ll tell him soon enough,” Porthos assured him.

            “You had better,” Athos sighed, “You’re doing a good thing, Porthos, and I am sorry for doubting you. I will make sure that Aramis gets his wish, if I can. ”

            “Our story is a strange one, I’ll give you that. As to Aramis, thank you, from both of us,” Porthos said softly. Athos grunted something Aramis couldn’t hear, and soon enough the sounds of deep breathing filled the camp. Would Aramis really never go back to the tower?! However, now that he thought about it, it was boring there. He’d only worked and stared out the window all day, waiting for his mother or something to happen. Well, something had happened, he’d met Porthos, and Claus, and Flea, and now he’d met Athos. This surprise was turning out to be quite the adventure. With that thought in mind, Aramis slept soundly.

            He woke to Athos shaking his shoulder gently, and he watched as the sun rose and the world came alive. The birds started to sing, and the flowers opened and started to reach towards the sun as it rose. They shared a quick breakfast before getting on the road, and soon enough Porthos pointed at something in the distance. “Look there ‘Mis!” he cried.

            “Is that the castle?!” Aramis gasped. A white structure was far off in the distance, and around it he could see many houses and buildings.

            “Yes, that is the capitol and the palace,” Athos said with a smile, “We should arrive by tonight.”

            “And the lights?” Aramis asked.

            “Are in twelve days, so you have plenty of time to explore,” Athos stated.

            “Will you see them with us?” Aramis asked. He liked Athos, even if he could be a bit cold at times. The sun was getting at about midday when they heard the pounding behind them. Porthos looked back with a roll of his eyes, only to turn towards them with wide eyes.

            “Hide, it’s the bandits!” he hissed. They were about to dive in the brush when they heard the yells. Athos and Porthos drew their swords, and Aramis retreated behind them, wishing desperately that he had one himself. The bandits circled them, and the leader was a big man.

            “Porthos,” the man greeted.

            “Lebarge,” Porthos growled.

            “You left us so early!” the man laughed, “But let’s not dwell on formalities, where’s the loot?!”

            “Where it belongs, now leave!” Porthos shouted.

            “Oh, well that’s too bad, ain’t it lads?” Lebarge pouted as he dismounted with a drawn sword.

            “I gave it back to the people you stole it from,” Porthos bit out. Lebarge rolled his eyes.

            “Good ‘ole Porthos, too noble for his own good. When Charon vouched for you, he said you were good, not a knight in shining armor,” Lebarge growled. The bandits started to dismount.

            “Leave now!” Athos commanded.

            “Walk away my friend, this ain’t your business,” Lebarge growled. Athos backed away from the man and slid father in front of Aramis. Lebarge shrugged and gestured towards his men. With that, they charged. Porthos took two of the men by the necks and slammed them together with a sickening crunch. Athos was a whirl, his sword flickering in and out as he fought multiple opponents. Two were already dead by his hand, and he plunged the tip of his blade into yet another man’s chest. Aramis scrambled back, his heart pounding, as the rest of the bandits, five of them, were engaged. Athos finished off two while Athos finished another two. However, the remaining two were the most dangerous. Lebarge advanced on Porthos while the other man advanced on Athos. Athos’ man seemed to be an adequate swordsman, and Aramis could tell that Athos would soon win. However, Porthos was a different story. Lebarge had him on the ground, a sword pointed at his neck. Before he really knew what he was doing, Aramis was running forward, latching onto his arm and dragging it away before he could stab Porthos. Lebarge growled and threw him to the ground, and Aramis desperately clawed at the ground as a boot planted on his lower back. Pain exploded across his left shoulder, and he grunted. There was a furious howl, and a blur crashed into Lebarge. As the darkness closed in, Aramis thought he could see Porthos beating Lebarge into the ground.

            “Hang on Aramis, just hang on,” a calm voice commanded as he fainted.

            Athos watched as Aramis closed his eyes and the blood spread across his left shoulder. He looked at the battlefield, all of the bandits were dead, and Porthos was just pulling his sword out of Lebarge. “Porthos,” he commanded, “Come help me, Aramis is wounded.” Porthos dashed over and swore at the blood.

            “Why’d he…?!” he moaned, “He was unarmed!”

            “And you were about to the have a sword in your throat,” Athos responded, “Now help me get his shirt off.” They were able to strip off Aramis’ shirt, and Athos heated up the needle and thread that he kept in a pouch on his belt. With a sigh, he carefully began to stitch the wound closed as Porthos held the shoulder still. When he was finished, he found Porthos staring at Aramis’ right shoulder. Athos cleaned the needle and proceeded to put it back, and was confused when he found that Porthos was still staring at the shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” Athos comforted, “It was a little deep, but it just bled a great deal.” He heard Porthos sigh, but he continued staring at his shoulder. “What are you doing?” Athos asked with a small scoff.

            “The story of the lost prince, do you remember what he looked like?” Porthos murmured, “I’m tryin’ to remember.”

            “Why?” Athos asked.

            “Humor me, please,” Porthos stated, “If you remember it.”

            “My mother loved to tell that story to my brother and I. She said that he was born on the day of the festival, that’s in fact why we have it. He’s the son of Queen Johanna, formerly of House Treville, and King Armand of House Richelieu. She said that he would have had dark hair and eyes, and a mark,” Athos said in confusion.

            “Sorry, I don’t remember the story well at all, what kind of mark?” Porthos asked.

            “A mark on the right shoulder, a star with six points,” Athos replied, “And he should have been nineteen winters this year.” Porthos blew out a long breath and gestured Athos over.

            “Then you best come take a look at this,” he said softly. With a roll of his eyes, Athos walked over and knelt over Aramis’ right shoulder, and paled when he saw the star with six points on his shoulder.

            “It’s him!” Athos whispered.

            “Would explain allot,” Porthos grunted.

            “Why that woman kept him in the tower, which was in a lesser known part of the kingdom,” Athos breathed out.

            “What do we do?” Porthos asked.

            “We get him back to the palace, quick as we can,” Athos said resolutely, “I know you want to take him to see the lights and such, but this is far more important.”

            “Why?” Porthos asked, “Why is it so important that we have to get him back?”

            “It is the law that the king must name an heir by the time his eldest child is nineteen winters,” Athos stated.

            “And ‘Mis is nineteen in less than a fortnight,” Porthos sighed.

            “Indeed, and if he were delivered safely to the king, he might be indisposed to name his brother,” Athos replied.

            “That would make him happy,” Porthos said sarcastically.

            “It wouldn’t matter, the king can make any decision he likes about his heir,” Athos scoffed.

            “So we get ‘im back before the king names Rochefort, but why hasn’t he done it already if he doesn’t know ‘Mis is alive?” Porthos asked.

            “Because when Prince Aramis was taken, he declared that he would wait as long as he could before naming one, in the event of his son’s return,” Athos explained.

            “That’d make sense,” Porthos huffed, “How long before we can move ‘im?”

            “Not today, and he’ll not be able to walk tomorrow,” Athos sighed.

            “I can carry him, he ain’t that heavy,” Porthos said stoutly. Athos nodded and looked at him.

            “Porthos…you realize that this is going to change things,” Athos said slowly.

            “What’s that mean?” he scoffed, and Athos winced internally.

            “You know that Aramis will have to stay at the palace, he won’t go to the tower, but…” Athos said carefully, not voicing the ending to that sentence: _“he can’t be with you”_. Porthos’ eyes widened, and he grasped Athos by the shirt.

            “You’ve known us for one day, so I’ll say this real careful, Aramis and I aren’t in love,” he hissed.

            “I know, but seeing you around one another, I felt it needed saying,” Athos said gently. Porthos sank down on a rock.

            “I wasn’t lying, Aramis and I aren’t in love…but we may be getting there,” Porthos said softly. Athos gave a sympathetic sigh and grasped his shoulder.

            “And you may continue as you are, I’m only saying, don’t be disappointed if things don’t turn out the way you think,” Athos said.

            “Yeah, we’ll just have to see, but it might be a good idea if he figures things out, I mean, we’ll have to tell him when he wakes up,” Porthos sighed.

            “Yes, and he may figure out that he just wants you,” Athos scoffed.

            “Or he may find some nice lord or lady with a good name,” Porthos added. Athos glared at him.

            “I might not know Aramis or you very well, but I don’t believe that of him, to choose money or power over love, if he feels that way,” Athos scolded, at which Porthos hung his head. However, their conversation was interrupted by a small whimper.

            Aramis woke up with a fire on his left shoulder. He whimpered at the pain, and a hand grasped his left hand. “You’re alright Aramis, can you squeeze my hand?” Athos asked. Aramis whimpered, but he was able to squeeze his hand. A hand brushed his hair out of his eyes, and he looked up to see both Porthos and Athos leaning over him, worry on their faces. Porthos gave him a beaming smile, and even Athos’ lips quirked up in a smile.

            “You wanna sit up? You thirsty?” Porthos asked.

            “Yes please,” Aramis responded. Porthos and Athos supported him on either side and Athos offered him his water skin. Athos then took Porthos’ thick cloak out of his pack and folded it. He tied the makeshift sling onto Aramis’ arm, and soon his shoulder only throbbed. He was laid back down, and finally he had enough of the curious looks Athos and Porthos were giving him. “Porthos?” he asked, “What is wrong?” No answer was forthcoming from the big man, so Aramis turned to Athos. “Athos, what’s the matter?” Athos sighed heavily and looked at Porthos, who nodded.

            “Aramis, I’d like to tell you a story, which I want you to listen to,” he said carefully.

            “Alright,” Aramis, confused as to what the tension in the air was about.

            “Almost nineteen winters ago, on the day of the festival, Queen Johanna and King Richelieu were blessed with a son. The Prince Aramis was not long with us however, as he was stolen from his cradle only a few weeks after his birth. He was dark of hair and eyes, but most distinctive of all, he had a birthmark, a star with six points on his right shoulder,” Athos said quietly.

            “Just because I have some mark doesn’t mean I’m some long lost prince!” Aramis cried.

            “Firstly, the prince is nineteen summers on the day of the festival, the same as you. Secondly, Porthos found you in a tower with a mother that never let you leave for either stupid or unknown reasons; a tower which you have never left. Also, you have the mark, we’ve seen it. Porthos believes this has some credence, enough to take you straight to the palace. The prince was never found, and the tower you were found in was close, but remote enough that it may not have been checked,” Athos stated.

            “Athos is right, we-we can’t ignore this ‘Mis. I’m sorry, but…you may be this prince. The king will have to declare an heir at the festival, and if you’re who we think you are, you have a right to that throne,” Porthos said softly.

            “B-But the lights,” Aramis said softly. A hand was on his shoulder, and he saw Porthos couching above him, an understanding smile on his face.

            “If you are who the prince, I can promise you that we’ll have the best light festival that we’ve ever seen,” Porthos chuckled.

            “Really?” Aramis asked, “But, but I can’t rule! I’m not ready, I’d never be able to do it!”

            “Your mother said that you would never survive a day out in the world, and yet you’ve survived three, along with one fight and a cave-in. You don’t need to rule right now Aramis, you’ll be taught before ever taking the throne, and we don’t know how you’ll be until you try. Now, we must take you to your parents. I mean, if your mother wasn’t your mother, don’t you want to meet your real one?” Athos asked softly. Aramis looked at him in understanding. He saw a woman who would have tended his hurts instead of scolding for being stupid, a woman who taught him what she knew instead of just yelling at him. Yes, he owed it to her and his father, if they were, to at least try to be reunited.

            “You’re right, it wouldn’t be fair not to try,” Aramis whispered.

            “Porthos will carry you tomorrow, and we’ll be there in the evening,” Athos said.

            “That’ll be better, we’ll have a better chance of getting to see the king and queen alone,” Porthos sighed. Athos nodded in agreement. Aramis did not sleep that night, thinking of every development of the last three days. He was out of his tower, out in the real world, which he was loving more and more every day. Then there was Porthos, Porthos was so strong and kind, and Aramis was reluctant to admit that he was falling in love a little more with every day that passed. His heart beat a little faster when Porthos gazed at him, his touches lingered for hours. But he berated himself, he didn’t know Porthos’ feelings on the matter, and besides, they’d only known one another for four days! When they woke in the morning, they quickly ate their breakfast and were on their way. Aramis insisted on walking, and was surprised when Porthos and Athos complained about being tired so many times that day and asked for a rest, though Aramis certainly wasn’t complaining. His shoulders was aching, and when they reached the city gates that high afternoon, it was throbbing. They made their way through the crowds and arrived at the palace in the evening. When they approached the gate, they were stopped by the guards.

            “Halt in the name of the King!” the captain called, “I am Captain Cahusac of the King’s Guards, state your business!”

            “We come with urgent business to the king concerning Prince Aramis,” Athos called. The captain rushed forward and Athos gestured Aramis to come forth. The captain turned him round gently, and with trembling hands, bared Aramis’ right shoulder. He paled when he saw the mark.

            “How old are you boy?” he asked.

            “I will be nineteen winters in ten days,” Aramis said quietly.

            “Follow me,” Cahusac commanded. With that, he commanded for the gate to be opened and the trio were shuffled inside. When the gates closed behind them with a clang, Cahusac led them into the palace and into a large room. “You will wait here for the king and queen, Planchet will see to any needs that you have,” Cahusac commanded. With that, he left the room with a quick and determined step. Aramis sank to the ground, pale and shaking, and Porthos knelt in front of him.

            “You alright?” he asked.

            “Just tired and nervous. I mean, what if they are my parents, that means that Mo-that woman lied to me all these years, kept me prisoner!” Aramis said softly.

            “But this’ll be good! That woman didn’t treat you right, and these people can give you a better life!” Porthos responded.

            “I know they can, but until yesterday, I was just a boy locked in a tower!” Aramis replied.

            “Yeah, and I know it’s a big change,” Porthos said.

            “But you will get used to it, and we’ll be here all the way,” Athos comforted.

            “You will?” Aramis prompted.

            “Of course, we’re not going to just shuffle you off to strangers!” Athos scoffed.

            “Yeah, you’ll be alright ‘Mis,” Porthos said tentatively, and Aramis saw Athos glare at the man. Then, they heard running feet, and Porthos helped him up from the floor. Planchet opened the doors, and two disheveled figures came running in. The woman had hair like spun gold and a youthful face with warm brown eyes…Aramis’ eyes. She wore a tunic and trousers with a sword attached to her belt, and her hair was in a loose braid. The man had curls the color of Aramis’, with striking grey eyes that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone. He wore a tunic and trousers that were black with red trimmings running throughout them. Athos, Porthos, and Aramis dropped to one knee, and Aramis slowly looked up when he heard the tentative footsteps. The king was looking them over from near the door, his body still but his mind obviously turning, while the Queen Johanna advanced slowly. Her boots thumped on the floor, and it seemed that she’d just come from sparing. When she got three feet from Aramis, a shaking hand gently grasped his lowered chin and lifted his face slowly. Their eyes bored into one another, and she slowly crossed behind him. His right shoulder was bared once more, and warm fingers traced over his mark.

            “Johanna?” the king asked slowly. She must have given the king some indication of what she’d found, as the man’s lips quirked into what seemed a genuine smile, and his shirt was replaced. Boots once again clumped around and the queen slowly knelt in front of him.

            “It is said that a mother will always know her child,” she whispered roughly. Tears blurred in Aramis’ eyes, and she gently cupped his cheek. Suddenly, he was pulled in by strong arms, and the queen blew out a shaky breath. “Welcome home my son,” she whispered, “For I have sorely missed you.” Aramis sniffled, didn’t even care that his shoulder felt like it was on fire. “Get over here Armand,” the queen called from Aramis’ shoulder, “Or I’ll drag you over!” Boots approached, and soon his father was kneeling beside his mother.

            “It’s you,” he whispered, “You’ve come back.” Cool arms replaced his mother’s, and after a long while, though it seemed short enough to them, his father pulled back.

            “You seem confused,” his mother observed.

            “He only learned who he was yesterday,” Porthos said quietly, “It was just luck that we saw his mark Your Majesties.”

            “Hmm, an injury?” the king asked, observing the sling on Aramis’ arm for the first time.

            “A sword-slice across the left shoulder, we ran into some bandits,” Athos explained. His father looked much more worried after that, but Aramis just smiled at him.

            “It wasn’t so bad, just bled a great deal, and Athos stitched me up,” Aramis said with a small smile.

            “Yes, we have much to thank you for. Come, we’ll have Doctor Lemay check you over and then we’ll all sit down to dinner,” the king said, “You must be exhausted.”

            “I’ll want to hear about your adventures, and also where you’ve been,” the queen said with a smile, though there was steel in her voice as she came to the last part. The king gave her a significant look before helping Aramis up, and they were soon led deeper and deeper into the palace. For the next hour, a dark-haired man poked and prodded (and made sure that the star wasn’t a fake) at him until he was finally released. They were changed into clean clothes, and soon they were led onto a balcony. There, a table with five chairs and a hearty spread was laid out, the king and queen already seated and talking quietly. When they heard them approach, the king smiled warmly and the queen beckoned them over.

            “Now,” the queen said, “I want to know everything.” She piled their plates high, filled her own, and settled back against her seat.

            “Well, Porthos came after Mother left for her journey,” Aramis started. The king…well Father, looked at him in confusion and Mother was pale…oh. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

            “No, no! As your friend Porthos said, you’ve only known since yesterday. Now, your mother, she’s been with you all this time?” Mother asked.

            “Yes. We’ve lived in a tower about two days from here, deep in the woods, its off the path and you really can’t find it unless you know where you’re going or get lost,” Aramis said.

            “We searched the forest, but not thoroughly, we were more concerned that one of our enemies, such as Spain, had taken a valuable hostage,” Father mused.

            “So you were in the tower, were there any visitors or did the woman ever tell you her name?” Mother prompted.

            “I’ve been in the tower all my life, and she never told me her name or had visitors,” Aramis responded.

            “So…how did you survive when she went to get supplies, and when did you get out?” Father asked.

            “Well, she would be sure to leave enough rations for me to eat, and she knew I wouldn’t wander off. The only door to our tower was a secret passage, and the windows were twenty feet up. She never let me know where the door was, she would have me stand in my room until she was away. I’ve never been out until Porthos there took me out, and that was three days ago. She told me that I wouldn’t survive out in the real world, that she’d find me and I wouldn’t like the consequences,” Aramis said softly. Mother had a look of open rage on her face when he finished, and Father looked like he was contemplating murder.

            “Well, I can assure you that there will be no consequences,” Father bit out, “And I can see that we’re lucky to have even found you. How do Porthos and Athos come into this story?” With that, Aramis launched into his tail, leaving nothing out, and both Mother and Father smiled when he mentioned the lanterns.

            “You saw them then?” his mother asked softly.

            “Every year I’d watch them through my window. That’s why we were here, it was my birthday wish and Porthos was going to take me…but Athos said we should see you first,” Aramis explained with a small smile. Mother chuckled and Father smiled as she gripped his hand.

            “Guiding him home, just like you said Armand,” she said softly.

            “We’d like to present you at court tomorrow, if that’s alright. We’d also like to give Athos and Porthos their rewards,” Father said. Athos and Porthos both voiced their protests over this.

            “I can assure you that I am not in need of…” “We don’t need…”

            “I insist, we both do,” Mother stated, receiving a nod from Father, “You’ve returned our son to us when it’s obvious he would have spent his life away locked in a tower, and it’s the least we can do to repay you.” With that, all protests ceased, and Aramis saw a formidable ally in his mother. With that, they bid the pair goodnight and were led to Aramis’ chambers, which had stood waiting for him for nigh on nineteen years. When they entered, they were greeted by a young and chirpy young man, who was proclaimed to be Aramis’ valet. Porthos and Athos were given chambers beside his, and soon enough they were plunged deeply into sleep.

            As darkness fell, Armand de Richelieu looked around his bedchamber curiously, wondering where his wife had gotten to. There’d been an urgent missive from a far off lord, and so he’d been forced to interrupt her angry rant at the bitch who’d dared to call herself Aramis’ mother and deal with the situation. The interruption had been rather disheartening, as his wife’s fiery temper, when ignited, was truly a wonder to behold. Armand hadn’t seen her this angry since someone had come in with a fake Aramis five years ago. The boy had been blonde for God’s sake! With an amused huff, Armand realized he had his answer. He went quietly out of his room, Jussac and Cornet following closely behind him. He arrived at Aramis’ bedchambers and motioned for them to wait. Clad in the loose shirt and trousers she usually wore to sleep and perched on Aramis’ bed was his missing wife. He approached quietly and saw that she was running her hand through his dark hair.

            “Johanna,” he whispered.

            “I know,” she huffed, “I’ll wake him.”

            “I _was_ going to tell you to budge over, but if you insist on…” he whispered, only to be interrupted when she yanked him forward.

            “I can’t believe he’s here,” she whispered with a small smile. There was a sleepy snuffle from Aramis after that, and then an inarticulate murmur as he drifted back into deep sleep. Armand rubbed small circles on his back, and looked at his wife of twenty-one years.

            “I can’t either, I just keep wondering if I’m going to wake up,” he agreed.

            “Come on, we’ve been here long enough, and I won’t have us waking him, he needs his rest,” she whispered. Armand nodded and placed a gentle kiss on his brow before retreating with Johanna to the door. He closed it softly and shot a glare at his guards, who were smirking against the wall. They retired themselves to their beds.

            “We get to introduce him to Rochefort tomorrow,” Armand said excitedly as they lay in bed.

            “Yes, he’ll be so excited that he’s found!” Johanna whispered.

            Unbeknownst to them, a cloaked figure slipped over the gate and flitted to the shadows. Jumping onto a low wall, the figure began to climb until she reached a chamber high in the palace. Her employer startled from his sleep, a dagger in his hand, and sighed.

            “You were supposed to be here yesterday!” he hissed.

            “We have a problem,” she stated.

            “What is it?” he asked as he sat up.

            “I left to report a fortnight ago, and then I noticed bandits on the road. I turned back to check on the boy, and the tower was empty,” she reported.

            “Empty, did you check the area?!” he hissed.

            “Of course! I arrived at the gates to notify you when I saw him and two others enter the palace. The king and queen will have him now,” she stated.

            “That is certainly a problem, but not one that cannot be turned to advantage, though we must move quickly. You know what to do,” he commanded. She nodded and disappeared once more, and he rolled over to contemplate this new turn of events.

            When Aramis woke the next morning, d’Artagnan was fidgeting at the foot of his bed. He gave a startled gasp, and the boy instantly was contrite.

            “Sorry Your Highness!” he apologized, “I guess I was excited, Constance says I get too excited about things…well, anyways, I am to get you bathed and dressed before taking you to the throne room. Sirs Athos and Porthos were awakened earlier this morning to dine with the king and queen.” Aramis nodded and lowered himself into the steaming tub. He raised his hands to scrub his hair when d’Artagnan poured oil in it. The lad chattered on about palace life and all of the places in the city, and Aramis was glad for the companionship. When he was finally gleaming and dressed, two guards flanked him and led him to a large room. The court was not yet assembled except for a few key lords and ladies, and Athos and Porthos were already knelt in front of the throne. He joined them, only for his mother to scoff and lead him to a smaller chair on the dais. There was a blonde man at the bottom of it, and Father gestured for him to come up.

            “Aramis, I would like you to meet your Uncle Rochefort, the head of the palace guard and one of my key advisors,” Father introduced.

            “It is good to meet you Uncle!” Aramis chirped. The man gave him a smile, and even Aramis could see it was fake. He saw his father frown and his mother look at the king in confusion before the doors opened and the court was admitted. People murmured when they saw Aramis, and he wiggled a bit in his seat. Athos shot him a short, but comforting, smile before ducking his head back down once more.

            “My people,” Father intoned, instantly hushing all chatter, “I am proud and delighted to announce that our beloved son Aramis has been returned to us!” Cheers erupted around the court, and Aramis blushed. There was a squeeze on his arm, and his mother gave him a small smile.

            “Our absolute gratitude goes to his deliverers, the esteemed Athos and Porthos. To Athos, we give the honor of becoming the prince’s personal guard, to be with him always as his shield,” Mother added. She handed Aramis a cloak of light blue, and Aramis walked down to drape it about Athos’ shoulders. A beaming smile was on his face, and Aramis clasped his shoulder before going back to the dais.

            “And to Porthos, we give this pouch of gold and medal of valor,” Father stated. The pouch and medal were given to him, and Aramis placed the pouch in Porthos’ hand before placing the medal about his neck. Why wasn’t Porthos his guard too? His father and mother had two personal ones! He went up the dais and listened to the day’s petitioners with his mother and father. When the petitions were finally done, they again had lunch on the balcony with Uncle Rochefort, his parents, and his two friends. His uncle was much more of a conversationalist this time. Perhaps he had just been shocked, or else he was irritated that Aramis may have taken his place. Either way, his uncle seemed to be over his anger and lunch went well. When Aramis and Athos and Porthos returned to his rooms, he saw that Porthos’ pack was on his bed.

            “Are you going somewhere?” Aramis asked.

            “Yeah, I figured it was time I left,” Porthos said quietly. Aramis’ heart crashed against his chest, and Athos frowned at Porthos.

            “Now look, I got you back to your palace, and now it’s time for me to move on,” Porthos grunted.

            “Porthos,” Athos growled, but Porthos only shot him a glare. Aramis was horrified to feel a tear slide down his cheek.

            “B-but the lights,” he whispered.

            “I’m not gonna take you to see the stupid lanterns,” Porthos rumbled.

            “Porthos!” Athos cried.

            “No! No you’re lying, you said my dream wasn’t stupid! Why are you doing this?!” Aramis demanded, yet more tears trickling down his cheeks.

            “I was being nice, don’t you get it!” Porthos cried. Aramis’ heart broke with that, and he knew that Porthos would leave him then. He stepped forward, and his fist crashed into Porthos’ jaw. The man staggered back, obviously shocked, and Aramis realized he was panting.

            “I could have loved you, you great idiot! Now take your money and that medal you don’t deserve, and get out!” he hissed, “I could have loved you, probably would have!” With that, he walked to his door and threw it open.

            “Porthos,” Athos said softly, vicious understanding in his eyes. Porthos only shook his head, shouldered his pack, and walked out. Aramis slammed the door behind him, and only then did he allow his sobs to pull him to the floor. Arms were wrapped around him, and Athos pressed his brow to Aramis’ hair.

            “Why?!” Aramis demanded through his sobs.

            “He’s an idiot,” Athos hissed.

            “I-I love him!” Aramis sobbed.

            “And he feels the same,” Athos said softly, “He thought he was giving you your best chance, that you would want some fancy lord or lady.”

            “I was falling in love with _Porthos_ , not some lord or lady!” Aramis protested.

            “That’s what I said, but he didn’t seem to get the message. He must have known that the only way you’d let him go is if you kicked him out yourself. The king and queen offered him the same position as I, but he refused,” Athos scoffed.

            “Well, I’m not letting him go that easily, come on!” Aramis growled. Aramis dashed out of his room, only to find no one. He sent d’Artagnan to fetch Porthos, but the young man reported that he was not to be found. When Mother opened the door to his chambers that evening, she sat on the edge of his bed, where he was curled in a small ball. Athos was in his chambers, moving in, and Aramis had been pouting for some time.

            “I know you liked…well more than that, that boy,” she said quietly. Aramis looked up at her with red eyes.

            “I could have loved him,” he whispered.

            “I know, he was just being an idiot and did what he thought was best,” she comforted.

            “I know,” he said softly.

            “I do too, and I know how much it hurts to do something that you think is needed. When you first went missing, your father and I wore ourselves to the ground trying to find you, the whole army behind us. I was almost mad with grief and worry, ready to fight Spain or anyone else that I think thought may have had you. Your father, one night he came to our tent with this heavy look on his face. He said that he would send out Rochefort, that we were needed at the palace, and that we had a duty to our people. I said vile things to him after that, things that I’ll always regret, though your father has long forgiven me. He just took me in his arms and held me until I stopped swearing and threatening him…and telling him that he didn’t care about you. When he finally released me, he started to cry himself, and in that moment I knew that it was hurting him as much as me. I know you’re angry at him, and have every right to be, but know that what he said was just as hard for him as for you. I’ll have dinner sent to your chambers tonight my boy,” she said softly.

            “Mother?” he asked softly.

            “Yes?” she replied, looking down at him.

            “Thank you,” he whispered.

            “Any time sweetling,” she whispered. She kissed his brow ruffled his hair, and walked out of the room, shutting the door softly. Aramis only picked at his dinner that night, and d’Artagnan gave it to the red-haired maid with a defeat smile on his face. The young man retired to his own chambers, though he would move into the head valet’s chambers the next day. Athos wished him goodnight before he retired, and with that Aramis was alone. He dressed into his nightclothes before falling into a deep sleep. He was awakened that night by a small creak in the floorboards. He snuffled and blinked his eyes open.

            “My star,” the woman, the woman who he called Mother for almost nineteen winters, breathed out. Before he could scream, she clapped a hand over his mouth, and he was seized in grips like iron. “I told you there would be consequences,” she purred. He managed a yell around her hand, but the thuds from Athos’ chambers told him no help was coming from there. Panic seized him as he was ripped from the bed.

            “Brother, brother!” came the hiss as a hand shook his shoulder. Armand startled awake, and Johanna snorted beside him.

            “Arry?” she groaned and he grinned at the name she sometimes called him.

            “Go back to sleep my sweet, what is it brother?” he demanded, and grinned when he heard Johanna shuffle up next to him.

            “The prince awoke and was rather distressed,” Rochefort sighed.

            “What were you doing near his chambers at this time of night?” Johanna groaned, and Armand had to agree.

            “I wanted to check on him and see if he was awake, I wished to get to know him,” Rochefort said.

            “I’ll check on him,” Johanna stated, “Thank you Rochefort.”

            “Perhaps his Majesty ought to go to the boy,” Rochefort prompted.

            “Aramis is my son,” Johanna stated firmly, and Armand had to agree.

            “My apologies your Majesty, b-but he yelled for his father,” Rochefort said softly. Hurt flashed in Johanna’s eyes, and Armand glared at his brother.

            “I am sure that he would love your presence my dear. You know, a cup of your tea always sooths me, perhaps you could make him one,” he comforted. There, a compromise ideal for both.

            “Of course my love, Rochefort, wait for us outside,” Johanna commanded. Rochefort bowed and left.

            “He is acting strangely,” Armand observed.

            “Indeed, it is late to be wandering about Aramis’ chambers,” Johanna said in confusion.

            “Well, I will go and you will soon join me,” Armand said, and then he gave her a kiss on her lips. He pulled on a robe and joined his glaring brother out in the corridor. “Is something amiss brother, you seemed disturbed at the audience today,” Armand observed, he’d been rather hurt at his brother’s fake smiles at the court today.

            “No, nothing is amiss,” Rochefort said.

            “Where are Cornet and Jussac?” Armand demanded.

            “In front of the prince’s chambers, his guards were patrolling the adjacent corridors,” Rochefort commented.

            “Strange, they’ve never left our doors unguarded,” Armand murmured, but thought nothing more on it since they were at Aramis’ chambers, where Jussac and Cornet were not present. They entered his chambers, and Armand stopped cold. A woman was in front of Aramis’ bed, and that was not the worst part. On his knees in front of her was Aramis himself. His hands were bound tightly behind his back, and his bound ankles were tucked under him. A knife was at his throat, and a hand was fisted in his hair, stretching his neck taunt. He was staring at Armand with wide eyes, and he gave a little squeak through the cloth forced between his teeth. A growl to his right forced him to turn his head, and he saw that Athos was in much the same position between two guards, thrashing and growling at his captors through his gag. “What is the meaning of this?!” Armand hissed as forcefully as he dared, “Guards! Guards!!”

            “They will not come,” Rochefort murmured, and a knife was pressed against his back.

            “Rochefort?!” Armand breathed, “What are you doing?! Release my son and his guard immediately!”

            “I am taking what is mine,” Rochefort hissed.

            “What are you talking about?! Stop this, _guards_!” Armand shouted.

            “All of these nineteen years I have worked to become your heir, only for a boy of nineteen to steal my moment! Do you not realize Armand, the guards loyal to you are gone, and I command the palace guard,” Rochefort practically purred. Armand’s heart went cold at the thought of his personal guards and those loyal. “Don’t worry, I’ve only knocked them out and locked them in the dungeons,” Rochefort sighed.

            “He’s my son Rochefort!” Armand bellowed, “It is his right, now release him!”

            “No! This plan has been in place too long for me to stop brother, don’t you see?! When I had the boy taken nineteen winters previous…” Rochefort said.

            “You what?” Armand growled lowly, and Aramis gazed at Rochefort with wide eyes, “You took my son, your nephew?! You mourned with us Rochefort!”

            “I did not, not in my heart. I made sure that my agent here, Milady, was not discovered, and that the boy did not escape his tower,” Rochefort supplied.

            “Why?!” Armand breathed.

            “The boy was in the way, I was to be your heir! I would have held the boy his nineteen summers, and then he could have gone and done as he had pleased! And in the event that you refused me as heir, the boy would make a valuable bargaining chip,” Rochefort explained.

            “So you kept my boy imprisoned for nineteen summers,” Armand breathed.

            “Yes, only his friends ruined my plan. However, I can still get what I want, you can still sign the heirship to me!” Rochefort said excitedly.

            “You’re mad! I would never allow you to be king after me, not whilst my son lives!” Armand cried, and then horror grew in his heart. Milady pressed her dagger farther against Aramis’ throat, and Aramis gave a muffled whimper.

            “You _will_ sign my name on the documents,” Rochefort hissed.

            “No Rochefort, you can’t kill him, not your nephew, not my son!” Armand cried.

            “I will do what I must, now tomorrow you will sign the documents, or I will execute the boy and his personal guard for high treason, and the queen shall be thrown in the dungeons,” Rochefort hissed, “As insurance for your good behavior.”

            “You will not harm my family!” Armand growled, “Johanna!”

            “She’ll be along shortly with the tea. Now, what say you?” Rochefort demanded.

            “If I sign, what then?” Armand demanded.

            “The queen and you will be allowed to remain here, and Aramis will be taken back to his tower, never to leave again, as insurance for your good behavior,” Rochefort stated.

            “A king is father to all his people, and for that reason, Aramis is and shall forever be my heir. You are hereby banished from my kingdom and the royal house, your name shall be blotted from all records and your name remembered with scorn, and you shall never return on pain of death,” Armand hissed.

            “And your son and his little guard?” Rochefort asked.

            “I believe I speak for my son when I say that he’ll take the rope instead of a lifetime of imprisonment,” Armand breathed out, and he was relieved when Aramis managed a small nod, “You will never get away with it Rochefort, the army will intervene before they allow and the imprisonment of the king and queen and the execution of the prince!”

            “Thus why the army is on a training exercise twenty miles away,” Rochefort said nonchalantly, “Now, fetch me the queen, as the king refuses to cooperate.” A guard ran off, and he soon came back panting.

            “The queen is gone!” he gasped. Armand beamed, Johanna had gotten away somehow!

            “Lock the king in his chambers. Let it be proclaimed that Aramis de Winter and Athos de la Fere are to be executed in two days’ time for high treason, the charge being attempting to impersonate and claim the reward for the Prince Aramis,” Rochefort declared.

            “You won’t get away with it, Aramis!” Armand screamed as he thrashed in the arms of the guards. As he was wrestled down the hall, he saw Aramis and Athos being dragged down the hall, and he had to wonder if he would see his son again. He was thrown into his chambers, and the door was bolted behind him.

            When the king was thrown into his chambers, Porthos stumbled out of the tavern. He was raging drunk in an attempt to drawn his sorrow, but it still tainted his heart. He’d lost Aramis due to his own actions, Aramis who could have grown to love him. And so, he’d run to the taverns. He crashed to his hands and knees, retching in the street, and watched as boots stopped in front of him. A young man was in front of him, along with a hooded figure. Each one grabbed an arm, and he was too drunk to do anything as they dragged him to an inn. He was deposited on the bed. The man he now recognized as d’Artagnan gave him a bowl and a glass of water.

            “Retch in that,” he commanded. The other figure took off its hood and Porthos’ eyes widened.

            “My queen?” he slurred, but she took no notice of him.

            “No disrespect d’Artagnan, but how did you know to spirit me out?” she asked.

            “I was delivering some light food to His Highness before bed, I thought that he would be hungry as he didn’t eat much dinner, and heard someone attacking him in his chambers. Your chambers were closest, and your guards were not in, so I thought that they were with you,” d’Artagnan explained.

            “So you came in to get the guards, only to find the king gone and me worried to high heaven, so you spirited me out through the secret passages,” she sighed, “Porthos, you great idiot, are you awake?”

            “Yes,” he slurred.

            “Good, tell me, do you love my son like you think you do?” she asked firmly.

            Two days later, Armand was escorted out of his chambers to the palace’s courtyard. Two nooses were built on the scaffold, and Rochefort, along with his loyal guards, were already there. People were starting to file in, and he was led up onto the scaffold to join his brother. A knife was pressed against his back, and Armand winced discreetly. Many of the people wore thick cloaks, but it was still early morning.

            “Not a word,” Rochefort hissed. Then, he looked at the crowd that was quickly gathering. “We are here today to execute two criminals on high treason. Rene de Winter is accused of impersonating our beloved Prince Aramis, fooling even His Majesty, who was most devastated by the tragedy, and causing the queen to be confined to her chambers in her grief. Athos de la Fere is accused of attempting to collect the reward concerning the return of the Prince Aramis,” Rochefort stated loudly. Then, the gates coming out of the dungeon opened up, and Aramis and Athos were led out. Their gags were still in place, and their hands were still bound behind their backs. As they were led up onto the scaffold amidst the booing crowd, Armand growled at the bruises they sported. Their lips were cracked from lack of water, and he noticed that they had lost some weight. Both of them were limping, and Armand wondered what bruises they sported beneath their soiled clothes. A noose was secured around Aramis’ neck, and the boy looked him in the eyes.

            “I love you, my son,” Armand whispered brokenly, and Aramis nodded slightly. The knife pressed into his back, and the executioner pulled the lever without asking for last words or any other rights. The lad’s legs kicked out futilely, and tears ran down Armand’s cheeks. However, there was a roar and a whoosh, and a throwing axe severed the rope. Aramis dropped to the ground, and with a muffled cry, Athos rammed into the executioner, and the man wrestled with the bound prisoner. Armand turned around and wrestled with Rochefort with knife, but his younger brother was too strong. He was tossed off the scaffold, and his leg snapped as Rochefort jumped off the scaffold with a sadistic smile. His knife was raised, and Armand tried to see clearly through the agony straining his vision. The crowd was roaring, and it seemed that they were _attacking_ the guards. Athos and the execution tumbled off the scaffold, and Armand gasped when the executioner plunged a dagger into Athos’ leg. He was astounded when two people pulled the executioner off the boy, ran a dagger through his throat, and dragged the howling Athos under the scaffold next to the unmoving Aramis.

            “This ends now brother!” Rochefort hissed.

            “Rochefort!!” a voice boomed, and Armand turned with a gasp. There, with hair like gold and in full armor, was his wife. Rochefort drew his sword and advanced upon the queen, and two people dragged Armand under the scaffold, and then four armed men stood guard around the scaffold. There were cries of “for the king!” and “the queen, the queen!” echoing through the courtyard, and Armand realized that his wife had raised the people against Rochefort. He crawled over to the lads just as a dagger was slid under the scaffold he seized it and went to Aramis first. He untied the gag and pulled it away, and he pressed his ear to his son’s chest. He heard his heart pounding and cried with joy. He sliced away the horrid noose, tossed it away, and turned to Athos. The boy was grunting painfully through his gag, and Armand ripped the foul cloth away. The boy just on the cusp of his manhood gave out a groan as Armand inspected his wound.

            “Your Highness, the prince,” he ground out.

            “Is breathing, I’m not going to take this out now, I have nothing to stop the bleeding,” Armand sighed. He cut both boys free and gathered them both close. He ran a hand through Aramis’ hair and clasped Athos’ hand in his. He saw Johanna and Rochefort dueling, and he gave a roar of triumph as she plunged her sword through the man’s chest. He also saw Aramis’ lover (or so Johanna told him) plunge his sword into Rochefort’s lieutenant. Almost immediately, Rochefort’s men began to drop their weapons, and yells of triumph echoed throughout the courtyard.

            When Aramis blinked open his eyes, his throat felt like he’d swallowed glass. He gave out a small squeak, and a hand squeezed.

            “Aramis? Aramis?” came the quiet question.

            “’Thos?” he rasped.

            “Shh, don’t speak, I am here, just open your eyes,” Athos said softly. He blinked his eyes open and found that he was in his bed. He turned his head and found that Athos was next to him, his leg elevated on a pillow. “Don’t speak,” Athos whispered, “You’re alright, and Porthos is here, he is asleep in front of us.”

            “P’thos?” Aramis groaned, “P’thos?”

            “Shh,” Athos hissed, “There, on the couches, now sleep Aramis.” With that, Aramis closed his eyes and slept. When he woke again, someone was running a hand through his hair.

            “C’mon ‘Mis, open those eyes for me,” Porthos whispered. Aramis looked at him bleaily, and Porthos gave him a beaming grin. “Wonderin’ what happened?” he asked. Aramis nodded.

            “Well, the queen spread the word about what was happen’, that Rochefort was gonna execute you and force the king to name him as heir. So, she sent a message to the army, armed the citizens of the city, and snuck us into the hanging. We thought we had a little more time before they hung you, and I threw an axe at the rope as soon as I could, but it was touch and go for a good while,” Porthos whispered.

            “Where?” he croaked.

            “Where are your mother and father?” Porthos asked and Aramis nodded, “Your father was here for a day before your mother kicked him to his chambers, he refused to get any sleep between tendin’ you and Athos. Your mother’s running the kingdom while your father recover. ‘Mis, I’m so sorry about what I said! I was an idiot, I thought you would do better with someone different, that I would only fall in love with you in I stayed. I didn’t realize you already had my heart. I love you Aramis!”

            “Love…you…too,” Aramis croaked breathlessly. Porthos beamed at him, and he was suddenly in Porthos’ arms.

            “I love you, I love you,” Porthos whispered.

            “Wonderful, now may I sleep?” a voice groaned from Aramis’ right.

            On the day of the festival, Athos and Aramis were astounded when Porthos dragged two couches onto Aramis’ balcony. “I am curious as to what you are doing,” Athos called as Porthos came in for some thick blankets. Porthos only grinned at him as he shuffled back out. Aramis, who still couldn’t talk, tapped Athos on the arm, and the man nodded seriously.

            “Aramis is also curious!” Athos called as Porthos shuffled back in.

            “It’s your birthday surprise love, you’ll see in a few moments,” Porthos explained. The king and queen had been with the recuperating boys all day, but had gone to prepare and start the light festival, which Aramis was insistent (in writing) they continue on with. When Porthos lifted Aramis out of the bed, Athos was genuinely curious. When he was lifted up as well, Athos was very curious.

            As Aramis was tucked in amongst a thick nest of blankets and pillows on the couches (which were pushed end to end to make a bed/nest), he glanced at Porthos curiously. He was disappointed he would miss the festival, but Father and Mother promised him a memorable one next year. He gasped when one lantern and then another lit up the sky. Athos beamed next to him, and Porthos drew him closer with his arm. “Happy birthday love,” Porthos whispered. And with that, Aramis kissed him, and he knew that though life would never be perfect, he would be forever happy.

 


	4. Sleeping Porthos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The OT3 "Sleeping Beauty" AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, first, an apology to those subscribers who received two emails! I posted this chapter about one hour ago and experienced technical issues, the chapter was not registering updates and also appearing at the bottom of July 14's list, so I decided to delete and repost, hoping that this is at least a bit better. So, for those of you who got two emails, my sincerest apologies! And thus, we get to the OT3 "Sleeping Beauty":)

        Once there was a sad young man. The man was very rich and powerful, the lord of a great castle and all the lands about it, but he would soon be alone. His mother had died bringing his infant brother into the world, and his father had perished of a fever when the boy was almost sixteen winters. The boy and his brother took up the reins of their father and for a time were happy, but it was not meant to be. When the boy was a young man of seventeen summers, his beloved young brother fell ill. Healers came and went, and all said the same thing, the younger brother would soon die. Desperate, the man went to a woman of great power, one who was named Milady. She beheld his brother, and she stated that for a price, she would allow him to fall into a deep slumber until his cure could be found, a cure which she knew was in one of her numerous ancient tomes.

         And so, the man agreed to her price, a lifetime of servitude, so desperate was he to save his brother. A contract was signed, stating that if he should ever betray his mistress, then death would find him quickly, and more besides. His brother was allowed to sleep in the highest chamber in the highest tower of her castle, and the man was given an amulet. It gave him the ability to change into a crow, and therefore do his mistress’ bidding all the more quickly. She soon had his first task for him, and a hard one it was. He was to fly out and look for a certain prince, one with dark skin and dark eyes, and he was to tell her of his location. She had laid a curse upon the lad, stating that on his eighteenth winter, the lad would prick his finger on the needle of a spinning wheel and fall into a magical slumber, much like the one she had placed the man’s brother in. However, this spell could be broken by true love’s kiss, so his mistress would take no chances, and she demanded that the boy be found. Every day he was to fly out and scour the land, succeed where all her minions had failed.

           For months and months he flew without success, until finally he spotted a young man below him, and down he flew. He saw that this was indeed his man, and his heart sang with joy. He went back to his regular body, in order to rest his tired wings. Little did he know that the man could see him, or that he would come and speak with him. His name was Porthos, and he was as handsome and warm as his mistress described, but he had a job to do. It was with a heavy heart that he flew to his mistress, only to find guilt settle in his heart, and before he knew what he did, he lied to his mistress. The next day he found himself flying to the same spot and meeting Porthos there, and again, and again, and again once more. Porthos had wormed his way into Athos’ heart, but Athos could not break his contract. Slowly and steadily, against his seemingly unbreakable will, the man found himself falling in love with Porthos. He continued to lie to his mistress, only to fly to the spot where he and Porthos met every day. She never suspected anything. However, it seemed that fate had more in store for them, as they found out when they laid side by side in their clearing one bright sunny, morning.

\---

            As Athos stepped into the clearing after shifting to his body, arms wrapped around his body and pulled him flush against a warm chest. Lips ghosted along his neck, right on the edge of his amulet, and he groaned. “Hey love,” a voice rumbled.

            “Hello,” Athos said with a small smile. He turned himself around and let himself be kissed, and Porthos beamed at him.

            “How is your mother?” he asked. Constance Bonacieux was a fiery woman who had despised Athos when she first met him, but the two were now at an impasse, and the woman even seemed to be growing fond of him, perish the thought.

            “Well enough, she’s been getting’ antsier as I’m getting closer to my eighteenth summer,” Porthos sighed.

            “Perhaps she’s just feeling old,” Athos commented. Porthos hummed, and Athos smiled at him. “We could pick some flowers for her today or some berries, she always likes those,” Athos suggested.

            “Love, you are a wonder, c’mon,” Porthos declared and grabbed Athos’ hand.

            “Do you even know where we’re going?” Athos laughed as Porthos dragged him along.

            “No,” Porthos scoffed. Athos only rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled along by Porthos. Porthos talked about all the things his mother was doing, the garments she made and sold, the new things Porthos was carving, and anything in general that happened at their isolated cottage. Finally, after hours of circles, they came upon some berry bushes. They picked their fill, deposited them in Porthos’ cloak, and went for a swim in the clearing’s pool. Their shouts and laughter drowned out the whistling, and they did not even notice when a rider came upon them and dismounted, looking at them curiously. The horse gave a whinny, and Athos turned around with a gasp. Porthos looked as well, only to look at their admirer inquisitively.

            “Don’t let me interrupt gentlemen,” the man said with a smile, and Porthos gave him a welcoming grin. Athos was a little more leery, and he looked the man up and down. His grey jacket and hat were of fine make, and his dark hair and beard were well-kept. His dark eyes were warm and welcoming, and a bow was slung across his back in a quiver. A sword was by his side, and his arms were obviously strong, even under the jacket. He looked every inch the young lord.

            “You were not interrupting much,” Athos said slowly.

            “Oh but please, continue!” the man prompted. Porthos looked at Athos in confusion before shrugging at Athos.

            “You wanna join?” Porthos asked. The man looked them appraisingly before a bright smile lit up his face.

            “I would be glad to, I am Aramis!” he said brightly as he disrobed and fairly jumped into the pool. And thus they met Aramis, the son of a lord and a gentleman in his own right. Bright, laughing, and funny, Aramis was a new light in their lives. As Porthos’ birthday came closer and his mistress grew desperate, Athos felt something growing in his heart. They were in a field, laying amongst the long grass on their last day together, as Athos knew it would be.  

            “You’re lookin’ pensive,” Porthos observed to Aramis as they lay there.

            “Just thinking,” Aramis stated quietly.

            “Bout?” Porthos asked.

            “What are you going to do with your lives?” Aramis asked. Athos internally winced, he and Porthos had had this conversation many times, and Athos had a fairly liable excuse for leaving. He stated that his father was dead, and his mother ran the estate for now, but she asked that he help, and he also cared for his ill brother. It was as close to the truth as he could make it. He was half asleep, with his head pillowed on Porthos’ shoulder, and he knew that they thought him asleep.

            “Hopefully, Athos and I can be together, if he’s able to stick around. His mother, she runs the estate for now, and she’s fairly demandin’,” Porthos observed.

            “Poor man, has he said if he’ll stick around?” Aramis asked quietly.

            “No, but I know that he would if he could,” Porthos sighed. Athos blinked his eyes open, and Porthos beamed at him.

            “There you are!” he crowed.

            “Here I am,” Athos observed. Aramis soon had to leave, and Athos and Porthos bid him their good-byes. Porthos looked at him critically, and Athos flushed under his intense gaze.

            “So, what did you think of that?” Porthos asked. Athos gazed at him innocently, and earned a smack on the arm for his troubles. “Don’t give me that, I know you weren’t asleep!” Porthos scolded.

            “I don’t know,” Athos said softly, “D-do you think I should stay?”

            “I would love it if we could build a little cabin in our clearing and live there, but you have an estate, and people who you owe a duty to. You have a responsibility to your mother and brother, love, and I don’t want you to have to give that up. Whatever you decide, I’ll be right here,” Porthos comforted. Athos kissed him passionately, and Porthos smiled into the kiss.

            “I love you,” Athos whispered, “I love you!”

            “I love you too, Athos,” Porthos said gently. They lay there for a good while, kissing sweetly and nuzzling one another, before Athos drew away. “Have to go?” Porthos asked gently.

            “Yes,” Athos sighed, “I am sorry my love. I don’t know the reason for Aramis’ question, perhaps he is just nervous over his inheritance.” Porthos grunted, but he said nothing, and they soon prepared to part ways.

            “I’ll see you tomorrow love, I don’t know about the day after, Mother might have something planned for my birthday,” Porthos said warmly, landing a kiss on Athos’ lips.

            “I love you,” Athos whispered, he knew that he wouldn’t see Porthos tomorrow, or ever again, Constance would be taking him to the palace so that they could be there tomorrow night. He guessed that she’d tell him today. Athos waved at him, his heart clenching, as Porthos walked away. Athos shifted back to his crow form and flew to report his failure to his mistress. When he flew over the cottage the next day, he saw two cloaked figures leave the cottage, and he flew with them towards the palace. Porthos walked with back hunched, his fists clenched, and he had dark rings around his eyes.

            “It will be alright,” Constance whispered in an effort to sooth him as they prepared to leave.

            “Yeah, sure it will,” Porthos grunted. Constance winced and said nothing, and they were soon on their way to the palace of King Armand and his Consort Jean. He flew back to Milady’s castle, and he saw that she in a rage.

            “My curse will never even come into effect, you’ve failed me Athos!” she screeched.

            “Please mistress, I have tried!” Athos cried, though he could not bring himself to fear her rage, knowing what he’d gained by keeping Porthos’ location secret.

            “I know my pet,” she cooed, “But not hard enough! Leave me, I must think!” Athos left her and returned to his bare room. He curled up on the bare cot and soon fell asleep. He did not hear Milady’s cry of triumph, nor did he notice that she left.

            When he woke, it was to sounds of jubilation from the castle. He went to the throne room to see Milady on her great seat, and he knelt in front of her. “Rise, you wonder why we celebrate?” she asked.

            “Aye, Milady,” he said quietly.

            “The prince has fallen under the curse!” she laughed. Athos’ heart stopped, and he choked. “It shocks you I see, well, let us say that the lad ought not to wander in his own castle!” she laughed. Athos felt tears burn behind his eyes, and he cleared his throat.

            “My heart soars for your victory,” he said reverently, “I would ask that you allow me to fly over the lands, so that I may serve you with a clear head.” To his joy, she nodded with a smile, and Athos turned to crow form. He’d never flown so fast in his life as he soared towards the castle. When he arrived at it, he saw that the entire palace was asleep. He flew to the highest chamber and there beheld Porthos. The man was asleep, and Athos perched in the window. He shed his crow skin, and he climbed into the room. “Porthos?” he whispered, “Porthos my love, answer me!”

            There was no response from the big man, and tears pricked Athos’ eyes. This was his fault, if he had not lied to Porthos  about why he was in the woods in the first place, if he had been honest about the curse and who he was, this would never have happened. A sob ripped out of his throat, and he knelt in front of the bed. “I’m sorry!” he sobbed, “I’m so sorry my love!” The words of the curse ran through his head, and his lifted up his eyes in astonishment. True love’s kiss could break it! With a rapidly beating heart, he leaned over the bed and kissed Porthos on the lips. The man moaned and stirred, but he did not wake. He wasn’t enough! He wasn’t enough for his father, for Thomas, and now for Porthos! He was the man’s true love, but he wasn’t enough! Tears pricked his eyes, and he sobbed as he curled up against Porthos.

            When he finally dried his tears, he realized he would be missed soon. He shifted back to bird form and flew back to Milady’s castle, and one of her minions said that she was awaiting him in Thomas’ room. He ascended the stairs carefully, and there she was, sitting beside Thomas on the bed.

            “My pet!” she cried, “Where have you flown?”

            “Here and there, I didn’t notice,” he said nonchalantly. His mistress grinned at him, and she giggled.

            “How was the palace?” she asked.

            “The palace?” he asked.

            “Oh come, you don’t think I’ve been watching our dear Porthos? His true love, fancy that! Now, how did that come about?” Milady demanded, and she slowly rose from the bed. She tapped her staff on the ground, and it glowed with an eerie light. She grazed Thomas’ cheek with the ball, and it sizzled. She poised it above his heart with a smile.

            “Please,” Athos whispered, “Don’t hurt him.”

            “And why ever not, you’ve broken our contract,” she purred.

            “Please mistress,” he begged, “Do not hurt him!” He fell to his knees before her, and she glared at him menacingly.

            “You are his true love, but you are not the only one, there is another. Just tell me his name and where he shall be, and all shall be forgiven,” she purred.

            “No!” Athos whispered.

            “You know then?” she asked. Athos shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. He had his suspicions, and Aramis’ questions made sense now. “You dare defy me, your mistress?!” she shouted. With that, Athos knew his course of action. She was never going to find the spell that would bring back Thomas, it was only a ploy for a servant. Athos knew, in his heart, that Thomas would rather die of his illness than be the cause of another’s death. But Athos was at fault, Athos would fix this.

            “You are my mistress no longer!” he hissed. With that, he grasped the amulet’s clasp and pushed. Searing pain shot through his skull, and he howled with pain. Shrill laughter drifted from above him, and Athos looked up at her with watery eyes.

            “You think I would let you go that easily?” she laughed, “That clasp is magic Athos, only to be undone by me.”

            “Let me go!” he growled.

            “Oh no, you are mine,” she hissed, “And an idiot to boot. I never cured your Thomas, never had to. All his illness needed was a special tea, which I gave him, and rest, which he has in spades.” Athos’ heart stopped, and he looked up at Milady in shock.

            “Why?” he breathed.

            “Because I could,” she said with a sweet smile, “I needed a servant, and you were quite willing…with a little incentive.”

            “You lying bitch!” Athos growled, and he threw himself at her. The pain exploded in the back of his skull once more, and he lay on the floor, panting.

            “Ah, ah, ah. All our dear Thomas needs to slip into oblivion is a pillow, or I could forget to feed him, or I could stop his heart with a special spell, just like this one,” she purred. She pressed her staff to Thomas’ heart, and his brother gave a moan.

            “No, no no please! Please stop!” Athos screamed.

            “A name, and a destination,” she insisted.

            “Please, don’t hurt him,” Athos whispered.

            “I can assure you, your precious lover, for I know that’s what he is, and your Thomas will not be harmed by me. They shall simply remain guests here,” Milady said sweetly, “However, if I am forced to hunt them down, well, you know that the henchmen can be quite aggressive.”  With a breaking heart, Athos whispered the name and the place, praying that Aramis would forgive him.

            “Forgive me,” he whispered as Milady pet his hair.

            “I’m sure they will, now on my shoulder,” she commanded. He shed his human skin, and soon enough she had transported them to the little cabin the woods. Athos ruffled his feathers nervously as he heard familiar whistling and the galloping of a horse near the cabin.

            “Porthos!” Aramis called, “Happy birthday!” With that, to Athos’ horror, he entered the cottage. Athos longed to change form and call out to him, to scream any kind of warning, but he didn’t dare. The fight lasted for only a few moments, the henchmen subduing the young man without much fuss. When Milady lit up her staff and grinned at him, though he growled at her through the dirty cloth they’d forced between his teeth.

            “So the true love arrives,” she purred, placing a hand on Aramis’ quivering cheek. “Do you know who betrayed you, who let me know you would be here so that I could stop you from rescuing your dearly beloved Porthos?” she purred. A hand brushed against his feathers, and his heart screamed in agony. “Go on pet, tell him,” she said almost gently, “Show Aramis who his love really is.” With that, Athos reluctantly shed his skin and stood in front of Aramis. He chanced a peek at the man’s eyes, and he saw that they were huge, tears of betrayal now shining in those huge orbs. He gave out a small whimper through the gag, and Milady laughed. “Behold, true love!” she chuckled, and with that, she gestured for Aramis to be led away. The man did not even fight.

            They arrived at the castle without incident, and Athos was forced to sit on Milady’s shoulder as the festivities were renewed in force, and their victory celebrated. “You will be in charge of him pet,” Milady stated, “I have better things to do, so feed him and water him, and make sure that he lives.” Athos shed his crow skin and went down to the kitchens, grabbing bread and water. He padded swiftly down the stairs, and he unlocked Aramis’ dungeon door with the key Milady had given him. He looked up as the door creaked open and reverted his eyes once he spotted Athos. Athos gently placed the plate and cup down on the bench he sat on. Aramis only glared at the food, but Athos said nothing. Aramis was no longer bound, but his wrists and ankles were shackled to the wall, and he barely had enough chain to stand up from the bench he sat on. Athos made sure that the food was in reach and turned around.

            “Please, I don’t care if you hate me, only eat. You won’t be getting food from anyone else,” Athos said softly. With that, he turned around and shut the door, ignoring the quiet sobs that filtered through. When Athos returned that evening, the food was untouched. He refilled the water cup and replaced the bread before lifting Aramis’ chin gently. Aramis spat in his face. Athos wiped the spittle off with a trembling hand, and he released Aramis’ face. “Please eat,” Athos whispered. With that, he left the man. When he returned that morning to a full cup and intact hunk of bread, he glared at Aramis, who glared back, only to hang his head. “Aramis, please, my friend, starving yourself will not help Porthos,” Athos implored softly. Tear-filled eyes bored into his, and Athos realized he’d said the wrong thing.

            “You’re no friend of mine, and what do you care about Porthos?” he hissed. Before he could acknowledge that his actions were fully justified, Athos cracked him across the cheek.

            “She said she’d kill you!” he spat out, and with that, Athos slammed the door behind him, taking Aramis’ breakfast with him, and leaving him with his uneaten dinner. When Athos returned that evening, Aramis looked at him tentatively. Athos saw that the cup and plate were empty, and he replaced the bread and water with a smile.

            “My horse?” he rasped.

            “Fine, I’m taking care of him,” Athos assured him. Aramis nodded with something like gratitude, and Athos turned away from him. However, a hand caught his wrist, and Athos turned part of the way around. 

            “Were you telling me the truth?” he whispered.

            “Yes, she would have killed you if she had to hunt you down,” Athos affirmed.

            “Did you ever think hunting me down might have been better?” Aramis scoffed.

            “Not particularly, enjoy your meal,” Athos bit out. With that, he slammed the door behind him. When he returned to Aramis the next morning, Aramis actually looked contrite. “Done feeling sorry for yourself?” Athos asked flatly.

            “Yes, that was wrong of me to say yesterday. Obviously this has caused you so much pain,” Aramis said, though Athos could not mistake the sarcasm at the end.

            “You would do well to remember that I’m the only one who cares about you in this place, Aramis. It broke my heart to do what I did, but I’m not one for insipid fantasies,” Athos said softly. A cup and a plate flew past him to shatter on the wall, and Athos quirked an eyebrow at the man.

            “Do you ever wonder what it’s like, to realize that you’ve been lied to by one of the men you’ve loved most?” Aramis hissed.

            “No,” Athos admitted heavily, he wouldn’t lie to Aramis.

            “I loved you! I loved you, I loved Porthos! Did you ever care about  _either_  of us, or were we just the afternoon entertainment?!” Aramis demanded hysterically.

            “You were never entertainment! I loved Porthos and…and I might have loved you!” Athos yelled out. Aramis stared at him in shock, and tears flooded Athos’ eyes.

            “Porthos is in a sleep, can only be awakened with true love’s kiss. That’s why you’re here, so that you can’t wake him!” Athos hissed out.

            “Why not you?” Aramis asked.

            “I did, I tried!” Athos bit out.

            “You what?” Aramis breathed.

            “Porthos need his true love, and I’m only a part. When I found out what happened, I turned into a crow, and I flew to the castle as fast as I could. I kissed him, and he stirred, but he didn’t wake. You never know what it’s like, to hang onto one hope, only to realize you’re not good enough,” Athos said softly.

            “Athos,” Aramis said quietly, “Wait…you knew there was curse, you said ‘when you found out what happened’, you knew this would happen!” By the end of his statement, Aramis was red faced and straining towards him. “You bastard, you never warned him!” Aramis screamed.

            “So why did the sorceress not come earlier?” Athos asked.

            “What?” Aramis scoffed.

            “Why did I not run to her, tell her that I had accomplished the task that all others had failed at? She would have taken Porthos and enacted the curse by force,” he asked slowly.

            “Because-because you didn’t,” Aramis stuttered, “You didn’t tell her.”

            “I lied, I told her where you were and your name, but I  _did not_  do so until forced,” Athos bit out. With that, Athos turned and walked away, let Aramis stew in his thoughts, and let Athos clear his head. He walked about the castle and thought. Aramis had every right to be angry, Athos had lied, had led to his capture, had led to the curse being drawn out. Athos only wished Aramis would understand. He did not return until evening the next day. He berated himself as he thundered down the stairs with a tray and a cup, just because he was determined to act like a child that did not mean he should deprive the man of sustenance, he was on meagre rations as it was. Aramis’ head shot up as soon as he entered, and the man gave him a tentative smile. Athos went over and held the cup directly to his lips, and Aramis drank deeply with a moan. When he was done, Aramis sighed in contentment. “I’m sorry, I acted like a child,” Athos said quietly.

            “No, you needed to clear your head, and it gave me some time to think,” Aramis said softly.

            “And?” Athos asked.

            “Thank you, first of all. You didn’t tell her where Porthos was for God only knows how long, and you tried Athos, you did try. But we’re not alright, you’re not forgiven. Because of you, Porthos might sleep forever,” Aramis said gently.

            “Thank you,” Athos said shakily. He knelt before Aramis, and the man ran a tentative hand through his hair.

            “You said she forced you, what did she do?” Aramis asked carefully.

            “Threatened something I loved,” Athos whispered.

            “Me?” Aramis inquired. Athos nodded, that was some of the truth, and that would be good enough. “Liar,” Aramis bit out, “Fine, don’t tell me.” Athos fled, but he returned that evening. He threw himself into his duty, making sure that Aramis ate, washing him once every seven days, caring for Aramis’ horse, and Aramis took it all in measure. When Athos was rubbing some salve into the cuts made by the chains, Aramis sighed above him.

            “What is it?” Athos asked. Things had been better lately, they weren’t as careful with one another as they were, and they hadn’t screamed at one another in a long while.

            “Is it something to do with the amulet, you don’t take it off,” Aramis observed. Aramis had been trying to deduce what Milady had on Athos, it was almost a game, trying to see what she had on Athos.

            “Part of it. I thought that amulet only allowed me to change skins like you saw, but she can also bring me great pain using it. I cannot take it off,” Athos said softly.

            “I am sorry,” Aramis whispered, “Seems you’re just as much a prisoner as I.”

            “Yes, but we’re here together,” Athos said softly.

            “Just so,” Aramis said with a small chuckle, “You were right, you are my only ally here. You’re the only face I see, in fact.”

            “How are your legs?” Athos asked, “They must ache, sitting here for so long.”

            “They are numb, I need to stretch them Athos, I’m sorry,” he said softly.

            “This is no fault of yours. I-I will talk to Milady,” Athos said softly. Athos did indeed talk to Milady, and she saw the sense of his argument. Aramis could not fit her plans here, he could not remain here for years, just to ride out a tired and defeated old man, without exercise. Athos fed Aramis his breakfast with a grin, and as he unlocked Aramis’ chains, the man looked at him in awe. Athos bound his hands in front of him with rope, and then he took the spare rope and grasped it in his hand. He led Aramis up into the highest chamber of the castle, though he stumbled behind him. With a soft smile, he stopped in front of Thomas’ door.

            “Athos?” Aramis panted, “Whilst I could kiss you for the exercise, where are we?”

            “I would like you to meet someone,” Athos said carefully. Aramis looked at him skeptically, but Athos only pushed the door open. Milady’s one condition was that Aramis had to be tied down when Athos was not leading him, so Athos situated Aramis on the bed before tying the end of the rope to a bedpost.

            “Who is this?” Aramis asked, smiling at Thomas’ serene face.

            “There was once a very stupid boy,” Athos explained, “His mother had been dead for years, and his father had succumbed to a fever when he was sixteen. When he was just seventeen, his beloved baby brother took very ill. All of the healers that the brother called said the same thing, the brother was doomed. His beloved baby brother, who he loved most in the world, was dying. Finally, in his desperation, the brother stupidly went to a great sorceress. The brother was overjoyed when she stated that she could cure his illness, but she did not remember the spell. She would put him in a slumber, and she would look through her great tomes for the cure. All that she required was a lifetime of servitude. The elder brother, in his stupidity, knew that he would give up ten lifetimes so that his brother might live.” Tears were blurring Athos’ vision at the end, and hands gently cupped his chin at the end of it.

            “So you signed her contract, and she never looked at those tomes, did she?” Aramis whispered.

            “Thomas wasn’t even that ill. She only had to give him a special tea and let him rest,” Athos said softly, “She lied!”

            “Oh Athos,” Aramis whispered, “Is this what she threatened, that she’d kill him?”

            “I tried to tell her no!” Athos sobbed, “B-but she put her staff on his chest and she  _hurt_  him and I couldn’t let her!”

            “Of course not!” Aramis said vehemently, “So you gave her my name and told her where I would be.”

            “So sorry!” Athos sobbed.

            “Why didn’t you  _tell_  me?” Aramis asked, “I would have understood.” Athos shook his head, but Aramis was stubborn. “I would have and I do!” he insisted, “God help me, I love you Athos, I love you and I love Porthos!”

            “Really?” Athos breathed,

            “Truly, I’ve loved you two since I saw you half-naked in that pool,” Aramis said quietly.

            “Oh Aramis, I love you!” Athos sobbed. He took Aramis into his arms, and there they trembled, the both of them in one another’s warmth.

            “We best get back,” Aramis said tearfully.

            “Yes, it is late,” Athos replied.

            “Thank you,” Aramis whispered. Just then, Athos had an idea. He had the key for Aramis’ cell door, all he needed was the key for the shackles! That key would be in Milady’s sitting room! He led Aramis down to his cell quickly before clacking the shackles around him once again. He hurriedly brought him his dinner, and then he left. He waited until it was fully night before he snuck to her sitting room. She was asleep in the bed next door with the door open, and his heart pounded in his chest as he grabbed the key. He scuttled out the door and fled down the stairs. He unlocked Aramis’ door and threw it open. He looked up in shock, and Athos proceeded to unlock him. “W-what are you doing?!” Aramis demanded.

            “You’re going to rescue Porthos,” Athos said excitedly.

            “But I can’t leave you here!” Aramis protested.

            “I will be fine,” Athos assured him, “I will stay here with Thomas. Besides, her magic will fade as soon as she dies. You  _must_  kill her Aramis!”

            “I won’t leave you in her clutches, she would suspect you instantly!” Aramis protested.

            “It doesn’t matter, all that matters is you and Porthos,” Athos stated, “Just-just promise me that you’ll take care of Thomas?” The last of shackles was unlocked, and Athos pulled Aramis into his arms. However, the man took him by the jaw and forced him to look into hard eyes.

            “I will not leave you, and I will certainly not explain to Thomas how his brother had a self-sacrificing streak that led to me abandoning him,” Aramis hissed. Fine, it would be the hard way then. Athos tensed his arm and balled his fist, this would only hurt greatly, though his heart would hurt all the more. However, Aramis drew him in and kissed him passionately.  “I love you,” Aramis breathed out, “I love you, and everything’s going to be fine, and we’ll all be together.”

            “Just leave!” Athos pleaded, “Please, I’m begging you!”

            “No, no I love you, and you love me,” Aramis ground out.

            “And that’s why you have to leave,” Athos whispered. Just then, Aramis kissed him again, gently and for what seemed like only a short moment. However, it seemed that Athos’ heart would burst.

            “I love you,” he whispered, “I love you Aramis.” With that, there was a soft click, and then a clack. They looked down in shock, only to see the amulet curled on the floor. Aramis kicked it across the room.

            “True love,” Aramis whispered.

            “Just so,” Athos whispered.

            “Thomas?” Aramis asked.

            “Her death will break the spell, and there are too many guards. I could’ve gone by unnoticed, but with you…” Athos said quietly.

            “We would be found out, and if I stayed here, they could notice I was gone,” Aramis whispered.

            “We  _will_  come back for him,” Athos swore. Aramis nodded, and Athos helped him up. “Your belongings are with your horse,” Athos said. With that, they snuck out of the castle. How they got past the guards, they did not know, but they eventually made it to Aramis’ horse. Athos hefted up his sword, and Aramis slung the bow across his back. They trotted off into the night, and they rejoiced as they left the castle behind. It was in the distance when Aramis looked back and gasped. There was a ring of green smoke encircling it, and Aramis breathed out a shaky sigh.

            “She knows, we’ll never get to him,” Aramis breathed out.

            “Have faith,” Athos said stoically. With that, they rode on, no matter the consequences. When the castle was only about a two hour’s ride away, Athos stopped the horse. “The horse is tired,” Athos explained, “And we must rest for tomorrow.” As Aramis lay breathing softly next to him that night, Athos knew that Milady would waiting for them tomorrow, and that whoever faced her would probably die. Porthos needed Aramis to wake him, and Athos knew that Aramis may be able to slip by the woman if she was distracted. Yes, he knew what he would do, what needed to be done. He’d already caused so much grief for his lovers, he would not cause them anymore. His mind set, he grasped Aramis’ sword. He kissed the man on the forehead and whispered a prayer for the safety of him and Thomas.

            When he arrived at the castle on foot, Milady was standing like a tall specter before it. Thorns had grown up in front of the castle, and Athos knew that he would never win the day.

            “Come out!” she cried, “I can hear you! Who challenges me?!”

            “I do, in the name of all those who you’ve hurt!” he cried defiantly, and he lifted the sword in challenge. He would do this, do this for Aramis and Porthos, he would tire her, wound her, or kill her. He charged forward with a scream, but her skin seemed to shift before him. Standing in front of him was a great dragon, and he let out a howl of rage. “Face me demon!!” he screamed. With that, he raced forward, sword gripping tightly in a trembling hand. She lashed out with her tail, and he was swept off of his feet. He was able to regain his footing, but she released a spout of flame towards him. He was able to dodge, but he could feel the burns searing into his side from the heat. He moaned in agony, but he picked up a discarded thorny branch and ran between her legs, cutting one deeply with it. He slashed the other leg, and the branch was stuck in the muscle. She gave a great scream and turned round to face him. She was unsteady on her feet and breathing hard, and she spouted flame in his direction. Once again he was burned, but he did not catch fire. The flames were so distracting that he did not see the talon that was swiped his way. He howled as it sliced across his stomach, and a line of red appeared across it. He staggered, and he knew that he would not last long. However, there was a horrified roar, and an arrow imbedded itself in her eye. She screamed in agony as blood streamed out of it, and another arrow soon was in the opposite eye. She was thrashing on the ground, and Athos staggered up with his sword.

            “Torment me no more!” he hissed, and then he plunged the sword into her belly with all his might. He collapsed off of her body, and he hit the ground with a thud. He had saved Thomas, saved his lover, saved Porthos. Hopefully, he would be forgiven in time. As his eyes drooped closed, he heard a voice screaming, and then arms were around him.

            “No, Athos, no!” the voice screamed, “Please, please no, I love you!!” He smiled up at the voice, and he recognized Aramis’ horrified face, and then he closed his eyes.

            When he awoke, his stomach was tight and on fire. He moaned and batted at it, but strong hands gripped his wrists.

            “Uh-uh love, no can do, I know it hurts, but you can’t touch it,” the voice rumbled, joy laced in his words.

            “P’thos?” Athos slurred, not believing his own ears.

            “Yeah, you idiot, what the hell made you do a thing like that?” Porthos demanded.

            “’Mis?” Athos queried, ignoring his remark.

            “If you’d open your eyes, which is a very good idea, you’ll see that he’s to your right,” Porthos reassured him. Athos blinked his eyes open, and saw that Aramis was passed out in a chair next to the bed. “Worked himself to the bone tryin’ to save your hide,” Porthos sighed.

            “S’rry,” Athos gasped, and Porthos clasped his hand.

            “Aramis told me what for, and I promise we’ll talk about it later, but for right now, you need to sleep,” Porthos sighed. With that, Athos closed his eyes and slept peacefully. When he awoke again, Aramis was poking and prodding him.

            “Good,” Aramis sighed, “You’re awake.”

            “Porthos?” Athos asked.

            “Gone to get some food. You do realize I could kill you right now?” Aramis demanded.

            “Wouldn’t that be somewhat counter-productive?” Athos observed.          

            “One of these days I  _will_  kill you Athos,” Aramis growled.

            “I’m sorry Aramis, I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Athos whispered.

            “Isn’t that my choice, isn’t my body my own?” Aramis demanded.

            “Yes,” Athos admitted softly.

            “I thought I lost you, do you know what it was like for Porthos, to wake up with me half-covered in your blood and hysterical with you almost dead behind me?” Aramis hissed.

            “I’m sorry,” Athos sighed.

            “Don’t you ever pull anything like that again!” Aramis commanded, and Athos nodded firmly. When Porthos came in, he nearly dropped the tray he was carrying in his excitement to get to Athos.

            “You’re up, and you’re lookin’ much better!” he observed.

            “Yes, and we’ve had a little talk on my opinion of his little mission,” Aramis said with a brittle smile.

            “Yeah, if you do that again, I’ll tie you to that bed,” Porthos growled. Athos only nodded, and Aramis ruffled his hair. Porthos sat down with a sigh, and Athos looked down. “Aramis told me a real interstin’ story while you were asleep,” Porthos said tentatively.

            “I’m so sorry,” Athos whispered, but a hand gripped his wrist.

            “Thank you,” Porthos whispered, to Athos’ shock, “Thank you for not tellin’ her where I was, for savin’ Aramis, for riskin’ your brother’s hide, and yours, to get him here.”

            “But I…” Athos protested.

            “Yeah, you lied, I realize that, but what good would it have done me if I knew?” Porthos asked.

            “You could have stopped yourself!” Athos protested.

            “I couldn’t have,” Porthos said sternly, “When I pricked my finger, it was as if I was drawn to that wheel. I wanted to stop, I did, but I couldn’t. The only thing that would have come of it was that she would have found out and killed you and your brother.”

            “Thomas?” Athos gasped.

            “Guards are ridin’ to get him now, they should be here tomorrow,” Porthos soothed.

            “You did well my love, as well as you could,” Aramis said quietly.

            “That don’t mean that you didn’t do  _wrong_ , but we forgive you, and we love you,” Porthos whispered.

            “I love you,” Athos whispered, “I love you both, with all of my heart.”

            “We love you too,” Aramis whispered.

            “Now sleep,” Porthos encouraged. And so Athos slept, and when he woke, he was safe. He was nestled in between Porthos and Aramis, and he knew that here he would stay. Thomas would be here tomorrow, and they would be together for the rest of their lives. Athos knew that he could live happily ever after with these two, and it would be till the end of his days, long may they be.


	5. Aramis and His Six Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Portamis "Snow White" AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, "Swan Lake" wouldn't come out in my head, and then this wouldn't either! Just a word of caution, this AU is a little darker than the others, though nothing too horrible happens. Enjoy!

          Once, there was a kingdom that lived in fear. The king was dead, and his son, whilst he was more than worthy of the crown, was yet a fortnight from coming of age. The great sorceress Milady coveted the beautiful kingdom greatly, and the king to be worried that she and her minions would attack before the crown graced his brow. In his fear and desperation, the king sent his greatest advisor, along with the advisor’s lover, to treat with the evil woman. However, to the despair of all, neither man was seen again. The king prepared for war, but Milady’s magic was strong, and her evil minions were as numerous as the stars.

On the day of his coronation, the night was blessed with revelry and laughter. Knowing that all of the men would be deep into their cups, Milady struck. The kingdom was strong, but her minions and her magic was too powerful. After seven days of brutal fighting, she entered the palace in triumph. The king was taken captive, though of his younger brother there was no sign. On Milady’s orders, the palace and the city around it burned that night, as her minions danced round it as one danced round a bonfire.

          Milady forced the king to marry her, threatening that his people would suffer if it was not so. Fearing for his people, and thinking of his duty, the king and Milady were wed amidst tears of horror. The people were forced into camps, where shelter was little and food was less. She forced them to build her a new castle, a black and evil thing, a monument to the evil and horror that was its inhabitant. The people were soon set into tasks for their new queen, and they feared for the king. Milady had thrown him deep into the heart of the new castle, though where the people knew not. However, it was known that he languished there, far from aid and light.

          And yet, the king’s younger brother, only one year his junior, was not to be found. Milady had scoured the land for this last beacon of hope, and she had spies sent to his beloved’s kingdom, but no trace of him was to be found. The people despaired, but still his name was whispered laced with hope.

*Five years later*

          Aramis hummed as he checked the venison haunch that was over the fire. He fairly drooled as he thought of the dinner that would be had tonight. There would be blueberries from the bush by their cabin, ale, venison, and cheese. It would be a veritable feast, one that they had spent a fortnight preparing for. Aramis had insisted that his birthday was not an occasion that needed to be celebrated, but they were insistent. Jean and Armand had found him five years before, curled up in the forest and sobbing, having no idea who he was, only a name that was branded into the back of his mind. Armand was out picking the blueberries, he usually didn’t accompany the other six to work.

          The other six of his family were best described as a conglomerate. Jean was definitely their leader, self-assured, fatherly, and intelligent. Armand was the smartest, but Jean said that he didn’t like the dirt in their job, whatever that meant. Serge was the oldest, and though he had a bad leg and a limp, he still had a sharp tongue, and he was the best cook out of all of them. Charles was quite young, continuously talking about his wife, though Aramis had certainly never met her. Jacques was even younger, probably not even a man. He took care of their horses and talked on and on about his mother and sisters, his father long dead in a war. Cornet was their strongest, a warrior through and through. A conglomerate indeed.

          Even if they were family, Aramis had to wonder what they did for a living. They weren’t well off, no one was these days, but there was certainly a great deal of money. While he and Charles nearly broke their backs hunting for the family and making sure that everyone went to bed only semi-hungry, they always brought plenty of coin home. However, the next day, they would always take the coin, and said coin was never seen again. Armand and Jean would always stay up late on those nights, and the next morning the coin would always be in small bags somehow.

          Aramis’ thoughts were interrupted when he heard the voices coming near the house. Armand came around with the basket, and Aramis grinned at him. “They’re home,” he said with a grin. Armand nodded and out the basket on the table inside. Aramis finally was able to pull the meat off the spit as Jean and the others came through, talking loudly and laughing. Aramis could hear them going into the stables, and he knew that soon his birthday celebration would begin. He looked to these men, his family, the only one he’d ever known. Dreams and flashes came upon him in the night, but nothing concrete. The only thing he had, and now was resigned that he would ever have, was his name. His family all came tromping in, and Jean beamed at him before throwing his arms around him tightly.

          “Happy birthday!” he said quietly.

          “Thank you sir,” Aramis whispered. Jean only beamed at him and they all sat down to dinner.

          “And what is your birthday wish?” Jean asked. Aramis closed his eyes and smiled. Every year they were allowed one request, which was fulfilled to the best of their ability, though no one had ever asked for anything too large.

          “I really wanted one thing for my birthday,” Aramis said quietly. He knew that they wouldn’t like what he asked, but he was so curious!

          “Speak up Aramis, you know that you can ask whatever you like,” Armand prompted.

          “I know that you all like me to stay close to home, even if you don’t say so, because I lost my memory. But just because I lost my memories doesn’t mean that I’m an idiot! I mean, I don’t think they’re coming back, and I want is to do something! So I guess, I guess my wish is to go with you, at least for tomorrow,” Aramis stated quietly. The table was silent, and Jean and Armand looked at one another tersely. Serge rummaged even louder in the kitchen, and Jacques and Charles looked at one another nervously. Cornet suddenly found his bowl very interesting.

          “Aramis,” Jean said quietly.

          “I think what Jean is trying, and failing somewhat, to say is ‘no’,” Armand said as gently as he could.

          “Why not, Jacques is younger than me and goes!” Aramis protested.

          “He is, but he is not as vulnerable as you are,” Jean sighed.

          “I’m not! I’ve been practicing with my bow, I’ve gotten good!” Aramis fairly pleaded.

          “We’ll discuss it tonight,” Armand said. With a heavy heart, Aramis bowed his head and stood up. With a whispered “goodnight”, he left the table and closed the door to his small room. He could hear Serge whistling in the kitchen, and there was the clank of dishes and cutlery as he began to wash them. He heard Charles and Jacques bid their family goodnight before closing the door to their shared room, and Aramis huffed. Why did they feel the need to protect him so?! He was not some mewling child, nor was he a complete imbecile. With a resigned mind, he knew that he had to find out why this was, why it was so important that he be treated like a child. He eased his window open and slipped out. He crouched under the kitchen window and listened to the voices drifting out the door.

          “That was badly done,” Cornet’s voice rumbled through the door.

          “What did you expect me to say? Armand, did you know of this?!” Jean hissed.

          “Of course not my love!” Armand scoffed, “If I did, I would have spoken to you of it. However, this is not a surprise to me, he’s been restless lately.”

          “His request is justified, but you both know we can’t grant it,” Jean sighed. Why, Aramis was forced to wonder, why could he not help bring bread for his family?!

          “We also must prepare for another thing, it has been five years,” Armand sighed.

          “We should have snuck someone in to see the lad,” Cornet grunted.

          “And risked his exposure?!” Armand scoffed, “No, it was better handled by us.”

          “We can’t allow him to go with us, the risk of someone recognizing him is too great,” Jean sighed.

          “I’ll talk with him in the morning,” Armand stated, “I won’t get him up until after you leave.”

          “Do that please, I would have him with us, Charles said he’s a damn good shot, but we just can’t risk it,” Jean sighed. Risk what?! Chairs began to scrape back, and Aramis darted back through his window. He snuggled down in the blankets and closed his eyes, and he heard the door creak open.

          “Do you really believe that he’ll remember?” Armand’s voice asked.

          “It’s been five years, if it was to happen, it would have happened. We may have to tell him, that may spark something,” Jean sighed.

          “Or it make him run again,” Armand stated. Jean only grunted at this, but there was nothing to be said. A hand ran through his hair, and the covers were tucked around him snuggly.

          “Goodnight Aramis,” Jean said quietly, and then there was a click. The room descended into silence, and Aramis, though his mind was racing, slowly descended into the arms of sleep. However, his rest was plagued by burning dreams.

          _Blue eyes, eyes that were only a week ago sparkling with pride and happiness, now gazed into his as panic burned through them. Trembling arms clasped him to a chest, beneath which the man’s heart was thudding, and he sobbed._

_“Please,” he whispered, “You can’t make me!”_

_“I love you Aramis, please, you have to leave!” the man begged._

_“I’ll stay with you, stay and fight!” Aramis cried._

_“No!!” the man (though he was only a winter or two older than he) yelled, “I won’t lose you too, not after Armand and Jean! Please Aramis, get to Porthos and be happy!”_

_“Brother,” Aramis whispered, and all that he ever needed to say was in that word._

_“I love you brother,” the man choked out._

_“Can you not come with me?” Aramis asked with a small voice, like when they were children and he was begging him for allowance into his bed as thunder crashed and lightening forked across the sky._

_“A king must stay with his people,” the man rasped. Tears blurred Aramis’ eyes, and the man choked back a sob. He gently pressed a kiss to his forehead, half a benediction and half a goodbye, and he led Aramis towards the gaping passage that led out of the city. He was thrust forward before another plea could fly past his lips, and the door shut with a rumble. He let out a wail as he realized there would be no going back, no change of mind, and he choked out a sob. He heaved himself to his feet, still sobbing, and staggered down the corridor as screams echoed above him from the city._

          Aramis opened his eyes with a small whimper as the dream ended. Tears soaked his pillow, and he raked his hand across his streaming eyes. This had been his longest dream yet. Did he indeed have a brother, a brother who was a king? That would certainly make sense if he was not allowed to go out. And yet, a hidden prince?! That was preposterous, they were not living in fairy tales and songs! No, Jean and Armand must think him vulnerable. Yet, the two his brother had mentioned, Jean and Armand, perhaps they were his Jean and Armand! But how could they be, surely they would have told him if they knew him! Yes, they would have had to have been a different Jean and Armand. As he pondered these questions, the sun rose and the forest began to wake. He huffed as he remembered that he would be left behind today, but then an idea sprang to his mind. With a grin, he hurriedly dressed and seized his bow before climbing out of the window.

          Aramis watched from the shadows of the trees as six of his family mounted up. Jean gave Armand a kiss goodbye, and with a bellow from Cornet, they were off. Aramis mounted his own horse, a good and steady mount named Belle, and followed at a sedate pace. His family drew near the road and dismounted before pulling things out of their packs. Thick cloaks, large hats, and masks were all donned as they prepared for…for whatever they were going to do. Cornet, Jean, and Jacques all were near the road with swords drawn whilst the other three members of his family were positioned back from the road with drawn bows. Aramis stopped Belle where he could view both the window and them discreetly, and his mind raced as he wondered what they did. He drew his own bow and nocked an arrow, but he remained hidden in the wood. When a wagon began to rumble down the roadway, Jean leapt out in front of them.

          “Stop there and hand over your gold!” Jean boomed. Aramis’ heart was in his throat, this was what they were, highway robbers?! Aramis’ throat burned as he thought of old Serge and Jean, the man who’d been like a father to him, praying on innocent travelers. The royal worker on the wagon angrily tossed some large bags down, and Cornet crowed in triumph. Aramis thought he might be sick. This was why they hadn’t wanted him along!

          “You’ll pay for this!” one of the guards yelled, and Cornet laughed.

          “That’s what they all say, just tell her Majesty that she has our thanks for the gold!” Jean yelled before waving the wagon onwards. They all swarmed around the large bags, and Cornet boomed with triumphant laughter. Aramis ran quietly back to Belle and mounted her. He galloped quickly back home, but apparently Belle was just not quick enough. With a start, he realized that he heard loud voices from the cottage.

          “Jean, Jean, he’s gone!” Aramis heard Armand cry from the cottage, panic laced in his voice.

          “What do you mean he’s gone?!!” Jean demanded.

          “He’s not here, wasn’t even in his room this morning!” Armand panted, and Jean grew quiet.

          “Spread out, we have to find him!” Jean bellowed. Just then, Aramis road tentatively into the yard. Everyone stared as he dismounted and stepped forward. Suddenly, arms were thrown around him and he was pressed against a heaving chest.

          “Don’t you ever scare me like that again! Where in heaven’s name were you?!” Armand demanded. He pulled back and looked Aramis sternly in the eye.

          “I-I just wanted to see what you did,” Aramis said quietly, guilt rushing through him.

          “So you followed us?!” Jean fairly shouted.

          “Yes,” Aramis admitted, “And for that, I am sorry.”

          “And you saw what we do?” Jean sighed, running his hand through his hair in resignation.

          “Why?” Aramis breathed out, “Why would you rob people?”

          “We robbed her men, not like they were innocent bystanders,” Cornet grunted. Jean and Armand shot him twin glares, and Jean gave him a small smile.

          “You know that we get rid of the money?” Jean asked.

          “Yes,” Aramis responded.

          “You’ll go with us tomorrow, and we’ll show you what we do with it,” Jean said firmly, “You can judge us then.” Aramis lay awake that night, and when his racing thoughts finally subsided and he dropped off to sleep, the nightmares appeared once more.

          _Aramis kept one hand on the side of the tunnel as he walked along it. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking for, but it seemed as if he had been stumbling along for hours upon hours. The tunnel was like an oven, and he felt the urge to curl up in a ball and sob when he realized that this was because the city above was burning. He could hear the screams and crackling above the earth walls, and tears blurred his vision. When he finally reached the rope ladder leading up, he knelt on the ground and took in the cool evening air. He made the mistake of looking up, and he saw a city in flames. It was almost engulfed, and the roiling horde of Milady was entering it. The faces of friends and ordinary people flashed in his mind, and Aramis was forced to close his eyes._

Aramis’ heart was thudding in his chest as his eyes eased open. The sun was just beginning to rise, and he could hear his family in the kitchen. Was that what had happened, what had caused him to lose his memories? With a sigh, he tossed the covers aside and entered the main room. Jean was talking quietly with Armand, Cornet was stuffing small bags into a larger one, and Charles and Jacques were ribbing one another lightly at the table. Serge came in bearing a big bowl of porridge, and soon the table was filled with the sounds of quiet eating and a small amount of chatter.

          Soon enough, Jean called for them to get ready to go. They were all bundled up into thick cloaks, and Aramis had to wonder where they were going. When they were finally bundled up (even if it was in the middle of summer) they mounted their horses and rode out. They rode for miles, farther than Aramis had ever been with them. A dark and ugly spire loomed on the horizon, and Aramis gulped. When they drew closer, the grass began to die, and no plants were to be found. It seemed as if the black castle, as Aramis could now see that it was, poisoned the lands. A great tent city was sprawling in front of the castle, and they abandoned their horses to a man with one eye and a leer. They snuck quietly into the city, and Aramis was astounded when Charles knocked on the door of one ramshackle hut. A woman with red hair eased the door open, only to give a cry and fly into Charles’ arms. Aramis remembered then, Charles’ continuous mentions of a wife that was waiting for him back home. Constance, Charles had said her name was. Cornet handed a small, clinking bag to Constance, and she smiled at them. She opened it, and Aramis was astounded to find coins. Charles was led inside the house, and they began to turn away.

          “Is this what we do?” Aramis asked quietly.

          “We give the money to those who need it,” Jean sighed.

          “Come, we have many more stops to make,” Armand stated. With that, they all left Charles to his wife, and they distributed all the bags amongst the sprawling city of dirt and poverty. Aramis had always thought that they barely scraped by, but now he saw that they were fairly well off. The fact that they had to rob others just to make sure that others got by sickened him, but Aramis had an inkling feeling that if there had been another way, Jean and Armand would have taken it. When they finally got home, exhausted but proud, Aramis went to help Serge prepare dinner. Dinner was tense, and Aramis finally put his fork down and looked at each of his family in turn.

          “When do I start?” he asked with a small smile. Cornet gave a roar of approval, and Jean clapped him on the shoulder. The next year went by in a blur of adventure and smiles. Jena taught him how to plan a raid while Armand taught him how to distribute coins. Serge taught him all he knew of the bits of medicine his mother had taught him, long ago but still bright in Serge’s mind, only strengthened by many years of practice. Cornet taught him the sword and the axe, and soon Aramis’ arms grew strong. However, he still had teasing nightmares, flashes of memories that would not come to his mind. He grew more and more restless with each day that passed by, and Aramis could sense Jean and Armand getting more worried. While he lay in his bed that night, hissed voices drifted in from Jean and Armand’s room next to his.

          “I don’t know how much longer the people can hold out Jean!” Armand hissed.

          “They’ll have to Armand, you and I both know that he’s not nearly ready!” Jean responded.

          “And if he’ll never be?” Armand demanded. There was a rustling of covers and a sigh.

          “How sure are you?” Jean asked.

          “The books I was able to steal, they all say that most of their memories come back within a year,” Armand sighed, “It’s been nearly six Jean.”

          “Are you saying that he’ll _never_ regain his memories?” Jean demanded.

          “We have to prepare for the worst my love! We have get him to Porthos, let him know that he’s alive, and his father may very well lend us aid,” Armand said.

          “That’s suicide, you know as well as I that the border is dangerous, we would be killed before we even got within sight of Porthos’ lands!” Jean hissed.

          “You’re right, of course, that’s exactly what she would expect from us. I’m sorry my love, it’s just, the children were so thin and quiet today,” Armand whispered. There’s a tiny noise like a muffled sob, and Aramis closed his eyes, trying desperately to drown out the sorrow that permeated the house. Constance was getting thinner, and when they’d come last, she didn’t even have the food to give d’Artagnan something to eat for midday. The children were indeed thin, and the women and men thinner. The people were starving, dying, and they could do nothing but steal, and even that was becoming more dangerous each and every day. The week after Aramis’ birthday, everything went wrong.

          Aramis strung his bow back to his ear, mirroring d’Artagnan beside him. Jean called for the wagon to stop, as usual, and the guards handed over the money. However, one took a horn and blew a blast upon it, and there was a great deal of yelling. Men leapt out of the trees, and Aramis shot the lead man. Everything was blood and sweat and screaming and survival after that, and soon enough Aramis found himself alone. He could see d’Artagnan, though there were eight men in between them, and the rest of his family were fighting like mad further down by the road. Jean bellowed for them to retreat, and Aramis shot his last man. d’Artagnan fought his way back to the family, and Aramis turned to follow him, but a weight crashed into his chest. He watched as his family retreated into the trees, and his face was pressed into the ground. Something struck his head, and he knew no more.

          When he came to, he was jarred against something solid. His eyes flew open, and he saw that he was in the wagon. He tried to get up, and found that his arms were bound tightly behind him. A look at his ankles revealed that they were tied just as tightly as his wrists. He finally wiggled up and saw that there were two riders at the back of the wagon, there would be no escape that way. Aramis urged himself not to panic, and he lay his head down, it wouldn’t do to let them know he was awake. He laid there until the last rays of the sun were burning on his face, and then the wagon rumbled to a stop. He closed his eyes, and booted feet clattered in the wagon. His ankles were seized, and another set of hands seized his shoulders.

          “How hard you hit ‘im Gaudet?” one laughed.

          “Shut up Lebarge, didn’t know he had such a soft skull!” Gaudet retorted.

          “Dujon!” Lebarge barked, “Start a fire and get cookin’, we’ll get this ‘un secured!” Lebarge barked. Just then, he was hefted up by the two men, and he knew it was his time to escape if it was any. He kicked forwards, and his boots met a nose. Gaudet gave a cry, and his ankles were dropped. He thrashed out of Lebarge’s arms, and he was dropped on the wagon floor with a cry. He reached for Lebarge’s dagger, but Gaudet had recovered his wits and pinned him to the floor.

          “Let go you bastards!” Aramis cried, desperately trying to thrash out of his grip. His hair was seized, and a dagger was settled out of his throat. Lebarge leered at him, and Aramis ceased his thrashing. He cursed himself for his idiocy, how far did he think he would get bound? With a growl, he was lifted up again and dragged towards a thick oak tree. Lebarge grabbed some thick rope from a pack, and he was lashed tightly to the tree. He watched as twenty of Milady’s minions made camp and their dinner, and to his surprise Dujon and Lebarge came up with a plate for him. A cup was held to his lips and he drank deeply, and some hot stew was spooned into his mouth. “Kind for men who are rumored to eat children,” Aramis leered as they were finished. Lebarge only grinned and ruffled his hair.

          “Savin’ you for someone else, Rochefort and Milady would like a word,” Lebarge said with a grin. Aramis swore that his heart stopped beating then. Rochefort, Milady’s lieutenant in every way, was rumored to have a penchant for pain and a skill in magic that was second only to his mistress. Her servant, her protégé, and quietly rumored to be her lover, Rochefort was the second most feared man in the kingdom. “Yeah, your face says it all little man! Your little band has been a thorn in Her Majesty’s side, though a small one, and she’d much like to know where you’ve been holed up all this time,” Lebarge said with a leer, “Now, are you gonna tell me, or is Rochefort gonna get some fun outta this?” Aramis spat in his face. A fist crashed into his jaw, and his head bounced off the tree. Growling, Lebarge and Dujon left him to his own devices. It was the dead of night when they heard a rustling. Aramis sat up straighter and tested his bonds, which were as inescapable as before. Lebarge and the others drew their swords, and then there was a call.

          “Don’t shoot, we’re just innocent travelers lookin’ for a place to sleep!” a deep voice bellowed, and Lebarge almost looked relieved.

          “Come forward then, hands where I can see ‘em!” Lebarge bellowed. With that, five horses came into view. A man with warm brown eyes was leading them, and Aramis looked at them curiously. “Who are you?” Lebarge growled.

          “Merchants travelin’ to Her Majesty’s city, I am Rene, the leader,” the man said quietly.

          “There’s a good camp about ten miles back, camp there,” Lebarge commanded.

          “We’ve got a lame ‘orse sir, can we camp here alongside you?” Rene asked slowly.

          “Don’t care, move along,” Lebarge growled, and the rest of the guards gripped their weapons.

          “I have money,” Rene offered. Lebarge started forward and held out his hand. A purse was tossed into it, and Lebarge grinned.

          “Welcome to the camp,” he said with a laugh. Rene nodded and dismounted. They ate quietly and stayed separate from the camp. Dujon was set on guard, and soon the camp was filled with the snores of sleeping men. Aramis was drifting off himself when there was a snap from almost next to him. His head shot up, and he only just saw one of Rene’s men slit Dujon’s throat. Aramis gasped, and a hand clapped over his mouth. He grunted, but a dagger started to saw at his bonds.

          “Shh,” Rene hissed, and Aramis nodded slowly. He saw Rene’s men moving about the camp, and he fought the urge to scream when he saw that they were slitting the throats of the guards. The hand was slowly withdrawn, and Aramis was almost too afraid to breathe, but he forced himself to do so. The ropes came free with a snap, and he tumbled to the ground. Lebarge snorted and shot up, and then he gave a great bellow. Ten of his men were already dead, and the dagger began to saw at the rest of his bonds frantically. Gaudet was killed, along with three more of the guards. Aramis’ hands were freed, and Rene crashed into the fray with a roar. He fought Lebarge, and two more sleep-addled guards fell. Aramis grasped a stray sword and plunged it into the chest of one of the last three guards. Lebarge and Rene were at it tooth and nail, and Rene was losing. Lebarge drew a dagger out of his sleeve, and it didn’t appear that Rene noticed. Rene would lose! With a cry, Aramis flew at Lebarge, providing the distraction needed. The dagger lodged itself in his ribs, and Aramis let forth a howl of pain. There was a bellow of rage, and Aramis saw Rene plunge his sword into Lebarge’s stomach as he fainted.

          When Aramis awoke, his ribs were on fire. He gave a small and breathy moan, and a hand instantly came to rest in his mop of curls. “You awake love?” came the voice of Rene. Love? Love?! Aramis’ eyes snapped open, and he glared confusedly at Rene as he looked down at him. The man smiled indulgently, and Aramis’ confusion only grew.

          “Rene?” he asked.

          “Yeah, I know it was weird to use your middle name, but I couldn’t think of anything else,” the man, apparently not Rene, sighed.

          “Your name isn’t Rene?” Aramis asked. The man started to laugh.

          “You’re funny love! It’s so good to so you again! Don’t know what I would have done if your family hadn’t found us on the way back!” the man laughed, sounding more than a little teary at the end. Aramis was pulled into his arms, and a kiss was placed upon his lips. Aramis screamed against his mouth and beat his fists upon the man’s chest. The man pulled away immediately and put him back on the bed. Aramis rolled and clasped his dagger, pointing it at the man. Tears slipped down the man’s cheeks, his mouth still parted as if he expected Aramis to fly into his arms and kiss him once again.

          “What the hell were you doing?!” Aramis yelled. He could hear running feet in the hallway.

          “Aramis?” the man whispered.

          “I don’t know you,” Aramis hissed, “Why do you know my name if I don’t know you?”

“You have to remember me, I-I love ya,” the man said softly, pleadingly. Jean and Armand burst into the room then, and Aramis wanted to shout for joy.

          “What on earth are you two doing?!” Armand demanded.

          “He kissed me!” Aramis shouted. The man really did burst into tears at that, and Jean put a hand on his shoulder.

          “Porthos, come along, let’s go out and talk,” Jean said softly, and he gently led Porthos out of the room. Armand came up and took the dagger out of his hand, after which he tucked the covers securely around him.

          “How long have I been asleep?” Aramis asked.

          “Five days. You know how you are when you’re recovering, so we gave you sleeping herbs until you were out of the woods,” Armand said nonchalantly.

          “Did he know me?” Aramis asked softly, “He knew my name, and he said that I loved him.”

          “That’s a talk that you two are going to need to have together,” Armand evaded, and he quickly left the room after that. Aramis huffed and sank down into the pillows. He felt guilty about his reaction, Armand and Jean had probably forgotten to mention his memory loss, and if he had known Aramis, that must have come as a large shock. He felt a surge of pity for the man, but he knew that wouldn’t be welcome. A few minutes later, the man himself walked into the room and Aramis looked at him shyly.

          “Porthos,” Aramis greeted, “That is your name, isn’t it?”

          “Yeah,” the man said softly.

          “I’m sorry for what I did, that must have shocked you as much as it did me,” Aramis admitted.

          “No, you don’t have anything to be sorry for! If a strange man had up and kissed me, I don’t know what I’d do,” Porthos sighed.

          “Did Jean tell you?” Aramis asked.

          “Yes, and I’m sorry,” Porthos said quietly, and Aramis knew then that he meant it.

          “D-did we love one another…before I lost my memories?” Aramis asked softly.

          “That don’t matter now, tell me, how did ya get here?” Porthos asked softly.

          “I woke up in the woods with Jean kneeling above me. They took me in, called me their own, and they’ve been my family ever since,” Aramis said tentatively. Porthos winced, and Aramis looked at him shrewdly. “Do I have other family?” Aramis demanded.

          “Yeah, a brother,” Porthos admitted with a sigh.

          “Were we close?” Aramis asked.

          “Thick as thieves you were, only a year apart,” Porthos laughed.

          “Tell me, tell me about my life,” Aramis fairly pleaded.

          “I-I don’t think Jean and Armand would want that,” Porthos stuttered.

          “And who are Jean and Armand to say what I speak to you of?” Aramis demanded.

          “Sorry ‘Mis, but it ain’t gonna work,” Porthos stated.

          “And our love, the love you hold for me?” Aramis replied cautiously. Porthos sighed and sank down on the bed, grasped Aramis’ hand.

          “Do you want me to do anything?” Porthos asked softly.

          “I don’t know or love you,” Aramis admitted, it would do them no good to lie to one another.

          “That’s alright! You didn’t know or love me at first, but we still fell in love,” Porthos said with a bright smile, a smile that Aramis was looking forward to seeing more of.

          “Then we’ll get to know one another again,” Aramis said softly. Just then, a thought occurred to Aramis. “Jean and Armand know who you were, they talked about sending me to you!” Aramis cried. Thoughts flooded his mind, had he known the pair before?!

          “Aramis, these questions you have, I know they seem important now, but please believe me when I say that they’ll only make you more confused,” Porthos said softly.

          “So what, I’m supposed to go through my life not even knowing who I am?” Aramis demanded.

          “No! But-but you need to understand that some questions are best left unanswered,” Porthos admitted.

          “I don’t think that’s right,” Aramis said resignedly, “But I’ll let it go for now. I mean, if it had been something important, Jean and Armand would have told me.” Porthos nodded, and the bright smile was back. They talked for many hours of things good and bad, and eventually Aramis dropped off to sleep. He did not hear the loud argument in the main room, or the resigned voices.

          In a black castle, a tall woman stood before her trembling minion. She quirked one sculpted eyebrow and handed the small parchment to a blonde man.

          “There is no other news?” she demanded.

          “No mistress,” the thing, it was hardly a man, stuttered.

          “I want him found,” she hissed, “I want Prince Porthos found!” Bowing, the minion scuttled off to his business. She turned towards the blonde man with a sigh.

          “We will find him,” Rochefort said firmly.

          “Any news?” she asked.

          “No sign of the Prince Aramis, I firmly believe him to be dead. With the elimination of Prince Porthos, none shall stand in the way of your power,” Rochefort said reverently. A cold smile formed on her lips, and a pale finger traced the bones of Rochefort’s cheek.

          “No news in not dead. If I seize he bonny love, he will surely scuttle out of whatever bolt hole he has hidden himself in,” she mused. With a shaky breath, Rochefort fell to his knees and looked into her cold, green eyes.

          “Your Highness is surely the fairest and wisest in the land,” he whispered.

          “A fact you would do well to remember, my pet. Now, leave me, I have much to prepare for and a prince to find,” Milady instructed.

          Far away, Aramis was flourishing. Porthos was slowly and warmly drawing him in. Whilst nothing had gone on between him, he found that he was quite attached to the man. His nightmares…or memories still plagued him, but it seemed that hope had come to the house once more. Jean was teaching him battle tactics, Armand diplomacy, and Cornet every weapon he could get his huge hands on. Aramis had to wonder who in the world he was, after he’d heard a conversation between Porthos, Armand, and Jean that first night Porthos was here (he’d been listening in allot lately).

          _“You can’t wait for his memories to come back!” Porthos sighed._

_“We know, they may not come back at all,” Armand admitted, and the idea made Aramis pale._

_“We’re remaining hopeful, but we have to prepare for every possibility. If even you presence could not trigger his memories…” Jean added._

_“Who says he has to be what he was?” Porthos asked._

_“What are you saying?” Armand asked._

_“Well, he don’t need memories to be who is. I mean, we’ll have to explain to him who is, and that won’t be fun, but as long as we teach him the necessary skills…” Porthos explained._

_“He doesn’t need his memories, just to be taught,” Jean breathed, and Armand began to laugh._

_“We’re such fools! We can start immediately, and if we push things, we could be done by the end of the year,” Armand said excitedly._

It came as no surprise to Aramis when he was suddenly tossed into the world of education. There would be no more raids, they were too dangerous now, and they all focused on teaching him. He burned with fury as he realized that Jean and Armand had realized exactly who he was and had not told him for _five bloody years_. However, he knew that there had to be a good reason, there just had to be! Why else would they keep something that he craved so badly from him?! With a sigh, he shook his head and walked back into the house for the midday meal.

          The next six months were a combination of exhaustion and wonder. He and Porthos grew closer and closer every day, and he dared to say that he was steadily falling for the man. During the day Aramis learned, but he his evenings were Porthos’. They walked and talked in the moonlight, and they gazed at the stars. Aramis took him to the pond, and there they swan, naked in the moonlight and laughing. After two months, Aramis kissed him. After four, Aramis agreed to a courtship. Six months later, as he and Aramis lay in a field and Porthos’ lips were pressed against his, Aramis’ heart soared with bliss.

          “I love you,” he whispered after they parted. Porthos gazed down at him with wide eyes, and Aramis pressed against his cheek.  

          “Oh Aramis, I love ya, I always have,” Porthos whispered reverently. Soft, kiss-bitten lips pressed against his, and Aramis’ eyes fluttered closed.

          In her black castle, Milady fumed with a vengeance. Six months, six months with no information! Were all of her men incompetent?! Rochefort had heard nothing, her spies had heard nothing, and of course the bloody vermin that were her smallfolk had heard nothing! When Rochefort crashed into the room, she shot him a glare.

          “He has been found, Porthos has been found!” Rochefort cried, “One of our spies in the tent city saw him buying supplies and followed him to a cabin! The Prince Aramis was there also!”

          “Leave me be, I have much to prepare,” she said quietly, excitement bleeding into her voice. When Rochefort bowed and left out the door, and Milady turned to a small chest near her bed. Lifting the lid carefully, she hefted up the apple with a feral grin. Sitting in front of her mirror, she lifted up a small golden vial and blew out a calming breath. “Aramis d’Herblay,” she whispered. With that, she downed the thick liquid and coughed. Pain laced across her cheeks and she groaned. When she lifted her eyes, warm brown eyes and a mop of curls looked back at her. She laughed. When she left the castle, she came upon the cabin and watched as the Prince Aramis practiced his swordsmanship with a burly man. Porthos himself hefted an axe and walked off into the trees. With a grin, she snuck after the burly man. He went deep into the woods where the trees were thinner. They walked for about half an hour, and Porthos began chopping at a tree. “Porthos!” she called.

          “Yeah love!” he called, smiling at her. She approached with a grin and presented the apple.

          “I brought you something!” she chirped.

          “An apple?” he said with a bright smile, “Where’d you even found this?”

          “Dumb luck!” she laughed, “I thought you might like it!”

          “That would be wonderful, thanks,” he sighed, “I thought you were sparrin’ with Cornet.”

          “He gave me a rest,” she replied, praying that he wouldn’t see through the lie. He only shrugged his shoulders and bit a large chunk out of the apple. Milady grinned as he coughed and dropped the fruit to the ground. His eyes were blown wide, and his put his hands to his throat. There was a gurgling sound, and then he collapsed to the ground. Just then, before she could really celebrate the first part of her plan, there was a call. Gasping, she dove into the bushes.

          “Porthos, Porthos where are you? Cornet says that he wants another sparing opponent for d’Artagnan!” a man called. He crashed into the clearing and froze when he saw Porthos’ still body. With a surprised yell, he looked around wildly. She prayed that she remained hidden in the shadows. He turned around and ran quickly back towards the cabin, and she smirked. Surely he’d go and tell the little thing that his lover lay near and cursed. She would have her kingdom soon enough. With a sigh, she shed the boy’s horrid skin and waited.

          Aramis was sparring with Cornet when Jean crashed into the clearing. His eyes were wide as Armand and Cornet went running towards him. Aramis looked on in fear, but was instantly waved off by Armand when he approached. He watched them talk in hissed whispers, and finally Cornet came back with a tense smile.

          “Everything alright?” he asked.

          “Yeah, Jean just saw a bear out there,” Cornet said with a smile. Aramis scoffed.

          “Let’s just get back to sparring if you’re going to lie to me,” he growled. Cornet only sighed and patted him on the shoulder, hefting up an axe afterwards. Why couldn’t anybody see that he was not an idiot to be coddled?! Porthos did not return for dinner, and that only increased his worry. When dinner finally came, Aramis was almost frantic with worry. “Where is Porthos?” he demanded, “He went to get firewood hours ago!”

          “He said something about going to tent city after he was done splitting the wood,” Armand replied, throwing a look at Jean.

          “The woods not here,” Aramis retorted.

          “Aramis please, he just wanted some time alone,” Jean sighed.

          “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you lot in the morning,” Aramis sighed. With a sigh, he got up and quietly shut the door to his bedroom.

          “So, what’s the plan?” Charles sighed.

          “There is a plan?” Jacques asked cautiously.

          “We have to get him back,” Jean mused.

          “Of course we gotta get him back!” Cornet huffed.

          “The question is how,” Armand mused.

          “She’ll be waiting for us there, it’s the perfect bait for Aramis,” Jean sighed.

          “We can’t risk him,” Armand sighed, “Is getting Porthos worth the risk of losing him?”

          “I would think so, just for the fact that Aramis is going to go after him himself soon,” Jean sighed.

          “You’re sure she’s waitin’ there?” Serge asked.

          “No, but this is the perfect plan to lure him out. While Aramis lives, there is hope for the kingdom,” Armand stated. Who the hell was he?! Aramis tuned out the voices and closed his eyes. Well, he would certainly be going to get Porthos, no matter the consequences! He would start where they usually cut wood and go from there. Yes, if they weren’t going to help, he would do it himself. But who was “she”, he had to wonder? With a shake of his head, he decided that it didn’t matter, Porthos was what mattered. He gripped his bow and quiver, along with a brace of knives, and heaved himself up to his window. With a heave, he found himself outside on the ground. He snuck off into the wood and ran until he could no longer see the lights of the cabin. He followed the wood trail and finally came to the clearing. There, sprawled with the moonlight shining around him, was Porthos. Porthos wasn’t moving, and Aramis couldn’t see any movements from his chest. With a cry, he dashed into the clearing and gathered Porthos into his arms. Still, his love did not stir.

          “Porthos, Porthos answer me!” he cried. There was still no movement, no air came from Porthos’ lips. Aramis let out a low wail, and it seemed that it echoed through the forest. There was a snap, and Aramis whirled around. Standing there was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Aramis clasped Porthos to him protectively, and the woman only smiled.

          “He is dead, surely you must know that?” she laughed.

          “You? You killed him? Why?” Aramis breathed.

          “He was the perfect bait, and also a thorn in my side,” she said quietly. Tears blurred Aramis’ vision, and he clasped the knife attached to his belt after he lowered Porthos onto the ground.

          “I’ll kill you,” he whispered. She only laughed.

          “You might try, but in the end you’ll only join him, my dear Aramis,” she whispered.

          “How do you know me? Who are you?” he hissed.

          “I am Milady, darling. How I know you isn’t important,” she whispered. Milady. Milady had killed Porthos. With a cry, Aramis flung himself at her. Great smoky bands wrapped him around, and he struggled fiercely. With a yell, he slashed the knife through one of them, and they dissipated. However, Milady was already advancing on him with a knife. He ducked out of the way of her stinging blade, only to trip over a root. He rolled away as she plunged the knife downwards. He used the time she took to pull it out of the ground to his advantage, and he tackled her. His bow was long discarded, and they rolled on the ground, fighting tooth and nail for the knife. Aramis gave a cry as she wrenched at his wrist, and she hissed at him. He was flung away, and she dove at him with the knife. Aramis rolled out of the way once more, and his bow was just out of reach. She flew towards him with a high-pitched screech, and Aramis grasped his bow. There was a twang, he watched with horror as an arrow imbedded itself in her eye. He stared down at his hands in horror, and the bow fell to the ground with a muffled clatter. Seizing Porthos in his arms, Aramis let himself go, and great wracking sobs filled the air. He knew not how long he lay there, with Porthos in his arms and the wretched corpse of Milady close by, but eventually shouts drifted into the clearing.

          “Aramis?!” the voice of Jean called. There was the sound of running feet, and Aramis’ arms were seized. “Are you alright?” Jean demanded. Aramis only sobbed, and then he was clasped tightly to a chest. “You’re alright,” Jean whispered, “Everything’s going to be alright, she’s dead, you did well.”

          “She killed him!” Aramis whispered.

          “She did,” Jean said softly, “And for that, you killed her.”

          “I’m sorry, you were right, it was a trap. It’s just…I heard you talking and I had to get Porthos,” he whispered.

          “We’re alright. Come on, let’s get you home. This changes everything Aramis,” Jean replied.

          “Porthos?” he asked quietly.

          “Cornet, Serge, Jacques, and Charles have him, now come,” Jean prompted. The next period of time went by in a blur. Aramis did not know how long he sat on his bed, only that it seemed like an eternity. When Armand eased open the door and dressed him, he looked at him with dead eyes.

          “Come now, it’s time to say good-bye,” Armand said gently. Good-bye, good-bye to Porthos. Porthos, his love, his light, what could have been his life. Armand clasped his shoulder and led him outside. Cornet stood sentry by a gaping hole, a shovel stuck in the ground. Treville was standing on the right, a shovel hefted over his shoulders. Jacques and Charles were by a long, wooden box. Serge stood on the left of the hole, a worn Bible clasped in his grizzled hands. The top to the wooden box was open, and Aramis felt the urge to cry.

          “Why isn’t it closed?” he whispered.

          “We thought you might want to say good-bye,” Armand said softly.

          “Thank you,” Aramis breathed out. His feet dragged little paths in the dirt, and he slowly went to his knees in front of Porthos. He was nestled in a blanket, flowers scattered around him. It looked like he was asleep. Aramis choked back a sob, and he held up a shaking hand. His fingers gently brushed through Porthos’ curls, the curls he’d longed to rake his hands through. No more. A tear slipped down his cheek, and he closed his eyes. He had to be strong, strong for his family, for himself. “I love you,” he choked out, “Now and always.” He knew then that there would be no other. He brushed his lips against Porthos’ one last time, and then looked up.

          “Shall we put him to rest?” Armand asked softly. Aramis looked down at Porthos one last time, only to give a cry. Brown eyes blinked open and looked up at him in dazed confusion.

          “Love?” he groaned, “Where-where ‘m I?” Aramis gave a surprised laugh and threw the lid back. Porthos sat up groggily, only to be attacked by Aramis and his kisses. He gave a breathy laugh, and he carefully wrapped his arms around the shaking man. Aramis shuddered, and he looked up into confused eyes. “What the hell was in that apple?” he demanded.

          “I have no idea,” Aramis laughed. Porthos only scoffed and pressed his lips to Aramis’. Aramis’ mind blinked, and his eyes widened. Images flashed past his eyes, and he whimpered.

          _“I love you,” he whispered, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. From beside him in the field, Porthos beamed at him._

_“Do I have to say it?” he laughed. Aramis grinned and rolled on top of him. He ran his hands along Porthos’ ribs and nuzzled his chest._

_“Well,” he drawled, “Actions do speak louder than words.”_

_“Then hear this,” Porthos rasped. With that, hot lips were pressed to his, fire burning into Aramis, and he moaned._

“Aramis!” Porthos demanded, “Aramis!” Porthos was shaking him by the shoulders, worry clear in his eyes.

          “You bastards,” he snarled, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

          “Aramis?” Armand asked carefully, “Do you remember?”

          “You were one of our greatest councilors, Jean your husband. Cornet was a captain in the guard, Charles a new recruit, Jacques the stable boy who always gave my horse sugar when I couldn’t. Then there’s me, _Prince Aramis who is second in line to the fucking throne_ ,” he growled.

          “Aramis, we need to explain,” Jean said quietly, his eyes shining.

          “Explain what?” he snapped.

          “What good would it have done? At first, we were afraid that Milady would find you and we hoped your memories would come back. Then, security was much too tight for us to do anything except rob and give away what money we could. It wasn’t until Porthos showed up that we even began to hope,” Jean said quietly.

          “I wasn’t any good without my memories, or so you thought. You thought it was the only option until Porthos said otherwise,” Aramis breathed out.

          “Exactly. It wouldn’t have done you any good to have that burden on your shoulders, though I understand your anger. For keeping so much from you, we are sorry,” Armand said quietly.

          “Athos? And what of you, you were supposed to be killed!” Aramis asked.

          “Jean and I were captured as soon as we set foot in Milady’s fortress. She would have held us in her cells forever, but we were able to escape. These men that you see her were the only survivors on the attack on the city. From what we know, Athos is still alive, though we know not where. Milady forced him to marry her, taking the crown by law and by victor’s right. We can only hope he is alive, though I am not sure how well he will be,” Jean sighed.

          “And why didn’t you help Porthos? I mean, you’re a prince!” Aramis asked.

          “The border was watched too close, the time I rescued you was the first time we got through Milady’s spies and guards. I sent my men bag to alert my mother, but there ain’t much she can do with Milady on the throne,” Porthos sighed.

          “But she’s not,” Aramis whispered.

          “Not what?” Porthos asked.

          “I mean, she used you as bait and I killed her,” Aramis whispered.

          “Then now’s our chance. Rochefort don’t know she’s dead, and he’s vulnerable!” Porthos cried.

          “He’s right, it’s now or never. The people are getting weaker, and Rochefort is exposed. We must get to the tent city and lay plans,” Armand said quickly.

          “We have to get ready, the time is now,” Jean breathed out, “It’s happening!” The next morning, they rode out in the grey dawn. When they got at the tent city, the whispers that perhaps Milady was dead had already started. They met quietly, every man, woman, and child. When Aramis stepped forward, there were cries and shouts. Armand did all the talking, and there were cries of assent along with dissent.

          “How do we know you’re the real thing!” one young man demanded.

          “Lord Louis, you knew Prince Aramis, can you deny that this is him?” Armand demanded.

          “No Lord Richelieu…but this is a large risk,” he said quietly.

          “And we’re dying here!” Constance spat out, “Now, I’d rather die fighting than starve or freeze!”

          “She’s right!” a man bellowed.

          “Aye, down with the sorceress’ pet!” came the cry.

          “Long live King Athos!” an elderly man thundered.

          “Long live the king!” a young man yelled.

          “The king, the king, long live the king!” came the cry, echoed from the lips of every man, woman, and child.

          “What would you have us do?” a young woman asked, and Aramis recognized her as Marguerite, a maid from the castle.

          “Aye, let’s lay some plans,” Porthos said warmly. In the end, it was quite simple really, and one week later, Jean fidgeted with Aramis’ cloak.

          “I don’t like this,” Jean sighed. Aramis smiled and stopped his hands.

          “You know this is the only way with the least amount of bloodshed,” he said quietly. Jean nodded and sighed.

          “Be careful,” he whispered.

          “You too, just to remember, attack only after,” Aramis stated.

          “Yes,” Jean confirmed, his mouth in a tense line. Aramis pulled the thick cloak about him and clasped Porthos’ hand. They entered a smoky tavern and soon whispers of the prince echoed through it. They were only into a second drink when a knife poked at Aramis’ back.

          “In the name of King Rochefort you’ll come quietly,” the voice behind him. A guard was behind Porthos as well, and they were pulled out of the tavern. His arms were yanked behind him and he grimaced. “You’re under arrest,” the guard behind him hissed and Aramis heard Porthos growl. He stilled his breaths to calm them, and bags were thrust over their heads. They were led a long ways, and when their bags were finally yanked off, a blonde man leered at them.

          “Rochefort I presume?” Aramis asked.

          “Prince Aramis and Prince Porthos, you are under arrest for treason against the crown,” Rochefort purred.

          “And what have I done against my _brother_?” Aramis hissed.

          “Leave us!” Rochefort snapped. The guards bowed and left.

          “Your brother is not king,” Rochefort stated.

          “Really? As I remember he was the eldest son of the king…so he _ought_ to be king,” Aramis mused. A fist snapped his head to the side, and he groaned.

          “I have spells,” Rochefort hissed, “Spells that will make you no more than my slobbering slave!” There was a groan, and the door eased open. Marguerite sashayed in and delicately set a tray on the table.

          “Your midday meal my king,” she said demurely before leaving. Rochefort only glared at her retreating back. He stalked over to the table and took a great gulp of wine. He glared at the both of them, but Aramis only sneered at him. After only a moment, he clutched at his throat.

          “Are you feeling well?” Aramis asked. Rochefort’s eyes began to bug out of his head and he collapsed to the ground. “We all knew that you were too strong to do things traditionally, so dear Marguerite did us a favor,” Aramis purred.

          “You…” Rochefort croaked.

          “Me, have fun in hell Rochefort,” Aramis growled. Shouts drifted into the chamber. The whole reason for their “capture” was so that Rochefort wouldn’t notice the rioting that was going on now. As Rochefort gurgled out his last breath, there was a great rumbling. Aramis gasped and clutched at Porthos.

          “He’s dead,” Aramis breathed out.

          “Yeah love, you did good, real good,” Porthos said softly. Slowly, the walls shook, and the black seemed to bleed away. The walls started to turn white, and soon the room was a beautiful stone.

          “The darkness, their darkness, its leaving!” Aramis cried. By morning, the city was transformed. It was more beautiful than the dreadful ruin that lay near, and there was room for all. Cheers erupted from the streets, and Aramis knew that they won the day. In the end, the people fought with ever weapon available, and ten courageous men and women gave up their lives for king and country. None of the Milady’s guards survived the night. They didn’t find the dungeons until morning, and Aramis clattered down the steps with a frantic heart. They searched them thoroughly with no sign of his brother until they came to the heart of the dungeons. There was only one closed door, and Aramis yanked the keys from Cornet’s hand.

He yanked the door open, and he saw the pale figure huddled on the floor. Athos was still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing during the invasion, though they could barely be called rags now. He was pale, paler than the moon, and he was as thin as a wraith. He shook and gave forth a whimper, and Aramis flew forward. “Oh Athos, oh brother,” he whispered, “I’m here, I’ve come!” There was a gasp, and Aramis gathered his elder brother into his arms. Athos looked at him with huge eyes and placed a shaking hand on his cheek.

          “It cannot be,” he whispered, “It is a dream.” Athos’ voice was rough, but it carried a fearful hope in it nonetheless.

          “I’m here, I’m here,” Aramis whispered as he ran his hand through matted hair, “Oh Ath, what did they do to you?”

          “Aramis?” he whispered, “Aramis?”

          “Yes, I’m here, I’m not a dream, I’m here,” Aramis soothed.

          “Thank God, are you alright?” Athos demanded shakily. Aramis laughed and smiled at him.

          “Only you would ask that, but yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry brother, so sorry,” Aramis whispered.

          “No, you’re here now. Aramis…could you move the torch, it pains my eyes,” Athos asked gently.

          “Cornet, get some bandages for his eyes and remove the torch!” Aramis commanded, “Where did they hurt you?”

          “I am alright,” Athos sighed.

          “You were alright when you broke your leg as well. Lemay is still here, so we’ll get him to have a look at you,” Aramis sighed. Cornet came back with soft cloth, and Aramis gently wound it around Athos’ eyes. The man gave a small sigh of contentment, and Aramis rubbed a hand gently on his back. “Can you walk? Cornet and Porthos are here, so if you can’t they’ll carry you,” Aramis asked.

          “Help me up,” Athos rasped. With a small moan, Athos straightened his back and pulled his arm around Aramis’ shoulders. They staggered up to the largest suite of rooms, and eventually Aramis lowered Athos onto the bed. Porthos came in and beamed at him.

          “Jean and Armand came, the people are all safe and the guards are gone,” Porthos said excitedly.

          “Thank God,” Aramis breathed, “There’s a doctor called Lemay, can you get him here, Athos isn’t well.”

          “It’s good to see you Ath,” Porthos said heavily.

          “And it’s hear your voice Porthos, you’ve been taking good care of him?” Athos said with a twitch of his lips.

          “And he me,” Porthos said softly. He left the room quietly and Aramis began to strip Athos of his rags. Scars ran across his back in jagged lines, and some were not even healed. Athos hissed when his shirt was peeled away, and Aramis whispered soft nothings in apology. Marguerite and Constance came in with a large tub and warm water, and soon enough Aramis was cleaning six years of dirt from his beloved brother’s back.

          “How did you do it?” Athos asked quietly.

          “I shot Milady after she poisoned Porthos. Rochefort was killed after Marguerite gave him poisoned wine. With his magic, we felt it was the only way we could get the spring on him, whilst Porthos and I were the distraction while the people took care of the guards,” Aramis explained. Athos only hummed noncommittally. “I’m sorry I was so long,” Aramis whispered, “Watching the city burn…it was too much and I lost my memory.” Athos drew in a slow breath and clasped his arm.

          “Are they back?” he asked quietly.

          “Yes, when Porthos and I kissed for the second time a little over a week ago,” Aramis said quietly.

          “Then I suppose there’s nothing more to be said. You came as soon as you could,” Athos said with a small smile. Aramis thanked him quietly and continued his washing.

          “Your hair is in knots, we’ll have to cut it soon,” Aramis huffed.

          “It is hair, it’ll grow back,” Athos said quietly, “What concerns me more is where we’ll go.”

          “We’ll stay here. When their magic died, the blackness did as well. Trust me, the castle is very nice now,” Aramis soothed. Soon enough, Lemay bustled inside and clucked over his brother. They got him into some nightclothes and into the bed, and there Aramis bundled him in tightly. Soon enough, Athos drifted off to sleep.

          “He’ll need about a month to recover. He’s very thin, and the cuts may become infected, but he’ll be alright given time,” Lemay whispered.

          “And the bandages?” Aramis asked.

          “We’ll take them off in a few days and keep the curtains closed,” Lemay observed. Aramis nodded and the doctor took his leave. Porthos returned with the midday meal, and soon enough Jean and Armand came in.

          “He’s alright?” Armand asked with a smile.

          “He’ll be fine,” Aramis soothed, “He’s asleep now.”

          “I’m sorry sire, but there are some matters that require your attention,” Armand said after a pause.

          “Don’t apologize for my duty Armand. Porthos, if you could stay here?” he asked. Porthos nodded and moved the chaise close to the bed, watching over Athos like a bear watches over her cub. It took hours for Aramis to finish his duties, and when he stumbled up the stairs, he fell onto the chaise. Porthos grinned at him from the hearth and came to settle beside him.

          “Has he awakened?” Aramis whispered.

          “Yeah, long enough to give me some version of the shovel talk, though he fell asleep in the middle, so I don’t think it really counts,” Porthos snickered.      

          “I’m sure you have my honor well in hand,” Aramis scoffed.

          “Yeah, we’re courtin’ real proper like,” Porthos said innocently.

          “Speaking of which, shouldn’t we plan some sort of wedding?” Aramis asked.

          “Suppose so, what’d you have in mind?” Porthos asked quietly.

          “Well…” Aramis drawled. And so they lay there, content in one another’s company and happy. When their wedding came, which it did, it was the most beautiful affair that was ever seen, though most of it was because the grooms were so blissful. And so they lived happily to the end of their days, which were long and prosperous.

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I would love to hear your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Bet my Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4315332) by [Shadowy_Temptress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowy_Temptress/pseuds/Shadowy_Temptress)




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